Otherworldly, The curse of Immortality
by annasan1100
Summary: Allyson Gilbert has always lived for the expectations of her father, but rarely met them. Meeting his expectations became even harder when she found out she was a witch. Now, all she can do is attempting to make some sense out of the sudden absurdity and try to find out why someone is trying to steal something that is hidden inside her new school. Under Reconstruction
1. Prologue Diagon Alley

**A/N: And here is the rewrite of Silver lining now called Otherworldly, an OC story following Allyson Gilbert, as she navigates herself through the Wizarding World. Enjoy the story and updates will be twice a week.**

 **All original characters and storylines do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.**

 **Enjoy the story and let me know what you think. Good or bad, I love the feedback (especially if you see some typos). I hate them, but they do appear quite often.**

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 **o.O.o**

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 **Summary** : Allyson Gilbert has always lived for the expectations of her father, but rarely met them. Meeting his expectations became even harder when she found out she was a witch. Now, all she can do is attempting to make some sense out of the sudden absurdity and try to find out why someone is trying to steal something that is hidden inside her new school.

(Partly AU, covering Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts and the Second Wizarding War, but things will change drastically).

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 _ **Prologue**_

 _'Childhood is not from birth to a certain age; it's the Kingdom where nobody dies.'_

 _Edna St. Vincent Millay_

 **I** t was a chilly, clear summer morning, which in itself was a surprise in the crowded streets of London. The sun stood high in a cloudless sky while people wound around over the sidewalks. Amongst them was a young girl, obediently standing still in front of a taller, dark-haired woman. The girl scowled while the woman, obviously her mother, applied sunblock onto her pale forehead, leaving it a milky-white and gleaming, but her eyes sparkled with mirth, betraying that she felt uncaring for the white stripes on her face. When mother and daughter both were assured she would not get burned by the sun, they followed the throng of people. The girl, still very young, walked at the hand of her mother and a man, tall with dark hair and sunglasses on his nose, sneered while placing an odd gentle hand on the mother's back. He was obviously the girl's father. As they walked, the people around them seemed to unconsciously part away. The man was intimidating; his strut confident and his jaw set.

"Father," the young girl started, noticing the irritated expression on his face, "something the matter?"

"No, sweetheart, there's nothing wrong."

The young girl shrugged helplessly and continued her trot along the crowded sidewalk.

As the little family waved through the throng of people, the girl; she couldn't be older than eleven years old, pointed at a small dilapidated alley; reading _'Charing Cross Road'_.

"That's it!" She decided excitedly, tugging her mother towards the road.

Crossing the street, the little family found themselves in a dilapidated, forgotten part of London. The cobblestone street was deserted, the only sounds came from a soft wind rustling the old cracked leaves in one corner. The girl thought the street to be a bit creepy, the soft rays of sunlight reflecting off of the murky shop windows only contributing to the spooky feeling.

"It should be here…"

"Are you sure, Allyson?" Catherine Gilbert asked, an almost inaudible accent coating her voice.

"Professor McGonagall told us it was in the southern corner of London," Allyson said, no accent to be detected. An accent which should better not be there with the number of teachers and strict governesses she had had in the past.

The man, Mikeal Gilbert, traced his finger over the band of his wristwatch before flitting his eyes over the abandoned properties. "I believe the woman did say something about a pub only our daughter could see." The doubt clearly evident in his voice, but just as his daughter no accent could be heard.

Allyson nodded, slipping her hand out of her mother's and glanced through the street; looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It took her a moment before she noticed a broken-down inn. The pub McGonagall had told them about stood awkwardly between an old second-hand bookshop and a record shop.

"It's there," she decided, pointing at the empty wall her parents could only see. Allyson, on the other hand, saw two dirty windows; through which she could barely see inside, and the paint peeling of the walls. There was a sign hanging above the door with the name 'The Leaky Cauldron' and it actually seemed to be leaking out of the bottom. Taking her mother's hand again, Allyson smiled, before pulling the older woman along. Allyson's mother, her hair falling in perfect curls, tightened her grip on her daughter's hand, as she stepped through a wall and into an old grubby inn. The place was very different from the other restaurants and bars Allyson had been in so far, the room vastly bigger than it seemed from the outside and it smelled slightly of beer, tobacco and cinnamon. Catherine blinked tiredly, glancing around in awe, while Mikeal Gilbert merely massaged his jaw. His shoulders were tense, but other than that, the man showed no sign something was wrong. It was a trait Allyson had always envied him for.

Sunlight poured in through the paned windows, making golden rectangles on the floor and illuminated the small specs of dust floating through the area. Despite the hour, the large room was already packed with people: Witches and Wizards, funnily dressed in either robes or bizarre ensembles she'd never seen before. Although the pub was dingy and Missus Simpson (their cleaning lady) would have a fit if she saw the amount of grease on the tables, the atmosphere was light and cheerful.

After a few minutes the strangeness wore off and both her parents seemed to settle a bit. Catherine Gilbert ran her hand once more through her hair, fingers clasping tightly around a dark lock before her features finally relaxed. Allyson smiled sympathetically at her mother, before climbing up onto a stool and waved at the bartender.

"Excuse me," Allyson softly started, ignoring her father's sneer as he glared at a particular shabby spot in the corner. The man, dressed in a fading violent and green waistcoat turned around; he was old and quite bald. When he smiled brightly Allyson realised with a small prickle, that he missed all of his teeth.

"How can I help, little lady?"

"Um, how do I get to Diagon Alley?"

"Ah, Hogwarts, kid?" He asked, glancing at her parents huddled together while staring transfixed at a self-cleaning cloth, which was making circular movements over a tabletop.

Allyson nodded, shooting a fleeting glance towards her parents. "They're not used to much." She said in ways of explanation.

The bartender clucked his tongue before glancing at the girl again. "Muggle-born I take it?"

Allyson nodded again.

"Okay, follow me." The man said, drying his hands on a towel. Beckoning her parents, Allyson followed the bartender. They waved through the empty tables and chairs and were led out through the back of the bar and out into a small stone courtyard. The only things occupying the area were a trashcan and a number of weeds curling out from between the stones. Yet, there was nowhere to go, the stone courtyard was blocked by a huge cinderblock wall.

"You only need a wand." The bartender said, pulling out his wand and pointed it at the wall before tapping at some bricks. "Three up and two across, remember that."

"Okay, thank you!" Allyson said as she noticed the wall shudder. A moment later the bricks he tapped wiggled slightly and a small hole started to appear; growing wider and wider until the wall had completely moved aside and left the little group with the view on a very large archway.

The long winding alleyway was bustling with activity. Her mother chuckled softly as she noticed the strange clothing and her father gave a great suffering sigh. Allyson paid him little heed and cocked her head to the side as she noticed a stack of cauldrons, towering in front of a shop. They looked as if it was only a matter of time before gravity would pull them harshly back against the cobbled stones.

"This is amazing," Allyson whispered gleefully and clapped her hands together. Owls flew past their heads and the large crowd of people created an indiscernible hum as they spoke to each other.

"Shall we go?" Allyson asked as she stood on her tip-toes trying to get a view of the shops further down the alleyway. There were a few shops where children had their faces pressed up against the glass windows. The shops that seemed to be extremely popular were some kind of joke-shop in which things exploded and a shop which sold brooms. The broom shop was by far one of the most popular shops with children milling in and around.

Catherine placed a gentle hand on Allyson's shoulder when she reached out of her parents reach, peering through the windows of the shops opposite of them. Her lips jutted out in slight defiance as her curiosity was left to fester and she stretched up on her tiptoes once again to see further down the street.

"Where to first?" Mikeal asked and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, who smiled gently, also looking around in wonder.

"The bank?" Allyson asked, glancing at the bookstore adjacent to her. "The money here is different. 'Gringotts', I think."

"Yes, Gringotts the Goblin bank," her mother nodded. Both Allyson and her parents had several expectations of the goblins. Muggle folklore had it that goblins were monstrous creatures. Temperamental, malicious, greedy and grotesque. Growing up with folklore and Greek stories, Allyson was understandably interested in the creatures that had more than once haunted her nightmares.

She pursed her lips in thought, before taking out the Hogwarts' letter from her pocket. The Deputy Headmistress who had visited, Professor McGonagall, had explained that Wizards and witches used their own currency. If she recalled correctly you could only exchange currency at a Wizarding bank and Diagon Alley only had one.

After fiddling with the envelope, she found the small little map, which Professor McGonagall had quickly scribbled down on the back of her list of equipment, and turned it around until she was looking at it from the _right_ angle (or so she hoped).

"It should be further down the street." She mumbled, before heading off in the direction she thought the bank should be. Her parents followed quickly, obviously afraid they would lose sight of the eleven-year-old.

Considering the crowded alley and the throng of people, it was difficult to navigate through the unfamiliar place. There were many odd shops and Allyson stopped more than once to glance at the window displays. There was an ice-cream shop where the ice appeared to be made by itself and a robe shop in which a pair of robes danced in the window shop; a mannequin bowing towards the several spectators.

Had she been worried about finding the bank, that vanished the moment she noticed the building a few minutes later. Gringotts was, by far, the tallest multistoried building in the alley and gleamed almost invitingly in the soft summer sun. Yet, its intimidating old construction seemed to be quite out of place next to the obvious newer buildings around. Two small creatures, which must have been goblins, stood astride the burnished bronze doors, dressed in strange uniforms of scarlet and gold.

Her exceptions were not fully met.

Although Allyson would never call a goblin handsome, they were certainly not as grotesque as the folklore stories made her believe. Both creatures were about three heads shorter than she was with cleverly pointed faces and long hands and feet.

When she and her parents passed, curiously peering down at them, they eyed the small family balefully. Yet, they did incline their heads slightly and opened the burnished bronze double-doors. Allyson ascended the stone lobby steps quickly and stepped into a small entrance Hall. The bank was silent, as it appeared most shoppers had yet to arrive or had already passed the bank. Allyson's father pulled his wallet out of his breast pocket and glanced at one of the tiny creatures behind the counters.

Setting up an account — she received a new golden key and happily showed it to her mother —took only thirty minutes, yet, her father acted so haughtily Allyson pretended she didn't know him during the rest of visit. A Goblin named Anlok led them down the dim sloping hallways before being all but shoved into one of the carts that awaited them. Allyson hadn't been to an amusement park before, but she suspected that the frigid air rush and the deep drop down through the twisting maze of passageways gave a similar feeling. The metal wheels of the cart shrieked ominously and her stomach did a somersault more than once before they arrived at a vault in the lowest part of the Bank. If Anlok was to believed it had the best security money could buy and her father looked smug for it.

When they headed out onto the shopping street later that day, the sun had ascended fully into the sky, warm rays glinting off against the copper door. As they passed the double doors once again, Allyson noticed golden letters below a golden crest; ' _Fortius Quo Fidelius_ '

"And what does it mean, love?" Her father asked, following his daughter's eyes.

Cheeks turning pink, Allyson glowered at the tall man, while Catherine eased a non-existent wrinkle out of her long dress. A passenger gave them an amused look and seemed expectant of the answer and Allyson glared at the man with a scowl.

"Allyson?"

"Fine," she sighed. "Fidelius means something along the lines of faithful or loyal. And Fortius means _strength_. So 'the more faithful, the stronger' or 'Strength through loyalty' but it might as well be 'loyalty makes us stronger'."

Mikeal smiled before sneering at the man. The stranger disappeared quickly and Allyson pursed her lips. Her father had a way of putting so much hostility into one look that people were easily unnerved by him. He also had a way with words.

"Bloody impudent—"

"Okay," Catherine cut in, sending her husband an unamused look. "Let's start our shopping before your father gets into one of his foolish fights by being a democratic political-incorrect-fool. What's on the list, Allyson?"

"Erm, robes, a wand, books, obviously books and I think I also need Potions equipment," Allyson answered. Despite it being afternoon, the shopping area was no less busy. If anything people seemed to be even more in a rush than before and ran about in all directions. Children, but also several adults, were still crowding around the shop windows. Allyson listened with slight curiosity as the merits of the different broom models and _Quidditch_ teams — probably the sport McGonagall briefly told them about — were discussed. It always amazed her how fanatic people behaved when sports were discussed. A few shops further sold telescopes and old-fashioned measuring scales — although considering the Victorian way of dressing, she supposed they were not old-fashioned in the Wizarding world — and Allyson stopped before the shop window. A large leather-bound book with star maps was displayed just beside a large telescope and she watched with childish glee as the constellations winked at her.

"—Allyson?"

"Huh?"

Her father gave her a miffed look before pointing at the robe shop. "We should handle your wardrobe first."

"Right," she admitted. It seemed logical that they'd deal with the most unpleasant task first. The bell above the door chimed when they stepped inside of _Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions._ There was a long line in front of the small wooden stool in the back of the shop and Allyson frowned. Children of all ages stood huddled together and adults spoke in slow urgent whispers.

Sucking her cheeks between her molars Allyson curled a lock of dark hair around her fingers and waited for her turn. Her mother easily lost herself between the folds of fabric. With her father standing next to her, she began examining the different robes and tried on several pointed heads to amuse him, while Allyson started a conversation with a boy two times her height.

Cedric Diggory was a pleasant, polite thirteen-year-old. His parents were both magical and he was a source of information. Just like a large part of the Wizarding world, he was a fan of Quidditch (also played it as a _seeker_ ) and Allyson was slightly amused with the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about it.

Allyson had always related to older children. Perhaps they were less inclined to hurt you like children her age were or perhaps it was because they had matured a bit more. Either way, the time passed far quicker than she'd expected.

"Ah," Cedric said jovially, "it's my turn. I'll see you at Hogwarts?"

"Definitely,"

She watched him move towards the stool and leant against the wall. She now knew a bit more about Hogwarts and although she enjoyed Hufflepuff House's description — patient, loyal and dedication — she didn't think she was all that good with other people. It was worth considering, of course, and thanks to Cedric, she now somewhat understood the sorting process. He promised her it was nothing to worry about and she took his word for it.

It took thirty more minutes before it was Allyson's turn and another fifteen minutes before her measurements were taken. Her father, being in a most tolerant mood, allowed her to pick out a regular robe from the shop. When they reentered the street it was almost four-thirty in the afternoon.

"We still have to get my books, Potions and Herbology equipment and of course, a wand," Allyson told her parents excitedly. Normally, she liked to be meticulous in her searches, but right now there was too much to see and to take in. She wanted to see what being a Witch would offer her.

"It might be wise if we split up," her mother decided, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dark-blue dress.

"I suppose so," Allyson admitted and looked at her father.

The man regarded his daughter and wife shrewdly for a long moment, before shaking his head: "I suppose that would be best. Hand me your list, Allyson, I'll look for your potions supplies." He looked extraordinarily displeased.

"In the meantime, we can find you a wand," Allyson said heartily amused.

"Going for a wand shouldn't take that long, I suppose," Catherine agreed, absentmindedly running her fingers through her daughter's hair. "And would I be terrible off; if I said you also wanted to browse through the books in that bookstore?"

The girl smiled. "I hoped I could."

Her mother smiled indulgently and Allyson stretched up to her tiptoes, trying to catch sight of a wand shop. She found one, mere seconds later. If she hadn't been looking for it, it would have gone unnoticed. It was shabby and the windows were just as dirty as the in ones in the Leaky Cauldron.

 _Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_

Smiling at the older woman; mother and daughter entered the shop. The doorbell chimed and Allyson felt her heartbeat elevate. The store was small, dusty and dimly lit. There were countless narrow boxes stacked high up, covered with a fast layer of dust. A small wooden counter stood behind, but otherwise, the shop seemed vacant.

Allyson slowly inched further into the shop, shaking her head when dust was disturbed and fell on top of her. It seemed like Ollivander's shop was not a very busy place.

It took several more minutes before a frail old man with blue grey-eyes appeared from the back of the shop. He was only a few inches taller than Allyson, but his glassy eyes shone with strong alertness.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice soft and even, his eyes bulging with interest.

"Good afternoon, sir," she answered, her mother a few feet behind her. "I'm looking for a wand."

"Well, you're in the right place." Mr Ollivander stepped around the counter, and stepped up to the young girl; his glassy eyes not blinking even once. "Muggle-born?" He asked, eyeing her appraisingly. Then in an instant, it was gone again.

"Ah, yes," Allyson answered, nodding. "Allyson Gilbert, nice to make your acquaintance."

"Your wand arm?" He asked glancing at her right arm with a small crease between his eyebrows.

Allyson frowned, before holding out her right arm. "You mean if I am right or left handed?" she asked, as a tape measurer flew off the counter and began taking her measurements. Twisting her wrist, but without hurting her, the wand maker examined the pale blue veins pulsing softly on the back of her hand before turning to search through a pile of wands. Meanwhile, the measuring tape was measuring the space between her knee and her armpit, while her mother stared with a slacked jaw.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance," he began, the measuring tape by now around Allyson's head. "We customarily use unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers and the heartstrings of dragons." The wandmaker continued, before returning with a long box. "Chestnut wood and dragon heartstring, 13 inches."

Allyson carefully picked the wand up, testing the weight into her hand.

"Well, try it out!"

She gave the wand a blank look, before waving it. It shuddered but did nothing else.

"No, no, not this one, definitely not this one!" Ollivander said, yanking the wand out of her hand and turned to fetch another one. Allyson gave her mother a dark look, who seemed to be heartedly amused.

"Cherry wood and unicorn tail, 11 inches. Very flexible." He whispered softly, offering Allyson another box.

She reached forwards, but before she could even touch the smooth wood, the wand maker snatched the box away. Returning to the counter the man dusted his palms on the front of his robes and started to mutter under his breath and Allyson realised this would take a longer than she'd expected.

The day had begun as sunny and delightful, but as the sun descended behind the buildings, dark grey clouds started to swindle through the dark blue sky. Threatening, they gathered, concealing the summer sun and plunging the shopping area into a foreboding shade of grey. Time had seemed to slow down as Allyson tried wand after wand, but none seemed to work quite right. She took yet another wand out of its deep scarlet box and gave it a wave. The vase on the counter shattered with a loud crack and the murky water dripped down the old worn wood. She was slowly starting to feel a bit desperate. What if that Deputy Headmistress made a mistake? Perhaps she was magical enough to make things happen, but what if she wasn't magical enough to use a wand?

"We'll find one for you, don't worry, dear." Mr Ollivander explained with a kind smile, putting yet another wand back into its box. Allyson marvelled at how nothing seemed to bother the man. She had tried out at least a dozen wands and her eyelids were beginning to droop.

"How come none of the wands works for me?" Allyson asked feeling slightly useless.

"The wand chooses the witch or wizard, Miss Gilbert, not the other way around." Mr Ollivander answered as he clapped the lid on the box and packed the wand away with the rest. He stared up at the boxes and pursed his lips in thought.

Allyson nodded, although he couldn't see, and glanced at the broken vase. Water was still running down the side of the wooden counter and Catherine Gilbert stood up from her seat and made her way over towards her daughter; placing a comforting hand on Allyson's shoulder.

"It's going to be fine, Sweetie,"

"Perhaps—" the wand maker suddenly started, making a show of rummaging through the counter, eyes flitting almost reluctantly in her direction. "But it is very old, not one of the cores I usually use—" he muttered and Allyson gave her mother another long look who shrugged in response.

"There it is." Mr Ollivander softly breathed. He turned an auburn coloured box in his hands. The box looked old but well kept; the wood shiny and polished. Allyson raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I've had this in my possession for years." Mr Ollivander explained, looking as if he wasn't sure he should be holding the box in the first place. "My father manufactured— I do wonder—"

He slowly opened the lid and Allyson peered inside. The wand was made from dark greenish wood and instead of being completely smooth like she had come to expect, it was rough at the edges and twisted into a cylindrical shape.

Carefully, Allyson slowly took it from the box. The wood warmed beneath her fingers and buzzed gently, magic sizzling against her bare skin. A warm sense of belonging travelled up her arm and she tightened her fingers around it. She gasped.

"Mulberry wood with Unicorn tail, 11 inches. It's very flexible." The wandmaker explained. "Performs well in transfigurations and powerful." His eyes narrowed. "Yes, very powerful—"

Allyson nodded running her fingers over what would be her wand and smiled. It felt right and she carefully placed it back in the box, hugging it to her chest.

"May I ask something?"

"Of course,"

"The Professor that stopped at my house, told me I'd need a wand to contribute to Magical society. It's just, what can I perform with one, that I can't do without?"

The man considered her again. "What have you been able to do?"

A strange question if she ever heard one and she wasn't sure how to answer it: "I've been aware of magic for a long time now. I can summon things and if the mood strikes me compel animals or even people to look at me favourably. I don't really know how to answer it, really. Often, it's stronger when I'm upset or when I feel another strong emotion, but it's there too when I'm not."

"It's not accidental?"

"No," Allyson shook her head. It was the same thing McGonagall had asked and although she had lost control before she certainly didn't need to if she wanted something to happen. "Not really."

"Wandless magic is a rare trait." Ollivander mused. "Wands focus and strengthen a magical being's core. Yet, there are always exceptions. You are very young and your magic has not matured yet. It's often considered volatile and difficult to perform, but I suppose a lot is possible. A strong wand chose you after all."

It was a most cryptic explanation if anything else, but Allyson supposed it was enough for now. The reluctance to use 'Wandless magic' was something she wanted to look into. It seemed somewhat strange to be only dependent on a wand.

"How much?"

"Seven galleons please."

Allyson felt Ollivander's eyes long after she'd paid and stepped out onto the cobbled stones again. Perhaps, it had been an unwise decision to ask the man about the kind of magic even her future teacher was cryptic about, but she had wanted to know. The shopping street was a lot less crowded and the dying sunlight peeked out between the clouds.

"Did you have to?" Catherine asked when they were further down the street far enough away from the wand shop to not be seen anymore.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your question rattled him."

Allyson sniffed. "If an innocent question about _Wandless magic_ rattled him—"

"Dear God, you really are your father's daughter."

"Right, well, I still need my books," Allyson said hugging her wand to her chest as if it was a newborn baby.

Catherine clucked her tongue while glancing through the street. "Yes, and I need your father, as he has the rest of our money."

As if on cue, her father emerged from the inn. His dark blond hair tousled and a small smile tugging at his lips. He was holding a cauldron in one hand and a bag filled with books in the other.

"Dad?" Allyson asked feeling slightly put-out when she glanced at the books.

Noticing his daughter's gaze, he shrugged. "It didn't look as if you would be ready anytime soon, love. It seemed more adequate this way."

Allyson stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're so mean." She mumbled, before glancing at another odd clothes store. Except for the fashion — which she admitted was very odd — she could see lime green robes which lighted up when the lights in the shop window extinguished. Although odd, she thought they were also extremely brilliant!

"Oh, Mikeal—" Catherine sighed, massaging her temple.

"They're about to close, Catherine." he sighed. "I took some books out that weren't on the list as well."

"What kind of books?" Allyson asked immediately, curiosity evident in her voice.

"One called 'Hogwarts a History' and some more advanced spell books, I thought you might like." Her father answered, wrapping an arm around Allyson's shoulders. "Listen kiddo, I know you like bookstores, but it was about to close."

She sighed, giving the man a suspicious glare before nodding. "All right," she sighed, linking her arm through her father's. "Shall we go home?"

Smiling at his daughter he straightened his jacket. "I say we go somewhere to have dinner and call it a day."

Allyson's mother nodded absentmindedly and her father linked his arm through hers as well. Mikeal led them towards the wall and Allyson peered through the small gap in the wall just before it knitted itself back together behind them. Tom the bartender smiled at them, fiddling with a set of rusty keys, before letting them out of the little inn. They walked down the road, passed a busy, bubbling shopping centre and got back into their car. The way back home, Allyson stared at her wand wondering what amazing things she would be able to achieve with it. It would be great though, she was sure…

 _To be continued..._

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 **Retouched** at 13 March 2019 (I fear I'll never actually get past book 1)  
 **A/N: I hope you'll be happy with this updated again, Fantasy.92. I hope you'll enjoy the new story as well. I've rewritten many parts of this story as well changed a few things (important for the future). Enjoy:)**


	2. Chapter 1, Departure from Platform 9

**A/N: And here is chapter one of Otherworldly. In this we establish more about Allyson's character, but no huge changes here yet. There will be changes though.** **Thank you all for the wonderful comments**.

 **Let me know what you'll think about this (even if you find a typo)!**

 **Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.**

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 **o.O.o**

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 _Chapter One, Departure from Platform 9¾_

 **I** t was September the first of the year 1991. A warm breeze wafted over the crowded streets of London while the sun blazed on the roofs of the houses, daring anybody to come outside. Small little puffs of steam were pouring off of the heated asphalt and the cobbled stones leading towards the Entrance of the large Entrance Hall of England's best-known station. Travellers outside, sunglasses balancing on their noses, sat back on their luggage waiting for their rides. Some were fanning their city's brochures into their faces, while others held their cheap bottles of cold water against clammy skin.

Behind them, Britain's major railway station stood proud. A huge clock, hanging above the stairs leading towards the Underground, glistened in the late summer sun.

Although the air conditioners blared loudly, the heat had seeped inside the walls of the huge building, pressing down on its occupants. Allyson Gilbert, dressed in a simple shirt and a plain black skirt, was nervously pacing from one end to the other end of the hall. Her bound hair swirling behind her while her blue eyes gleamed in anger. The girl had been looking for platform 9¾ for the last twenty minutes, but so far no luck. She huffed impatiently.  
Allyson had been looking forward to getting on the Hogwarts Express and finding a quiet corner to try out her new spell work. Either way, there had been no trace of the red engine and she, nor her parents, had had any luck in finding it.

Her father, an imposing man with dark blond hair and brown eyes, went off to find a conductor, to never appear again. He had been sure from the beginning this had all been a bad joke and had been more than a little angry when his only daughter came down the stairs of their home clutching a yellowish letter to her chest.

Allyson huffed again, scanning the passengers walking by, hoping to see something _odd_. Anything odd, but so far she only saw tourists (who sometimes were admittedly odd), huge cameras dangling around their necks, business people, wearing neat suits and students, dressed in the most colourful dresses and shorts, waiting to be picked up to go to college or university.

"Calm yourself, love. We came early, the train won't depart for another hour." Allyson's mother, a slightly tanned woman with dark brown hair, said. Her extravagant appearance seemed odd against the pale walls from the station. Pulling her daughter to the side, until they were both leaning against a wall, near platform nine, she ruffled the young girl's hair.

Allyson sighed. "I know mum," she admitted nervously, "but wouldn't it be easier to have travelled with the other new students as the Deputy Headmistress had offered?''

Her mother chuckled. "I don't think we should force you to be around people your age unless we have no other choice," she said softly and Allyson flushed slightly.

She didn't care much for the company of others her age. A habit of being an outcast for so long, she supposed. Still, if she had travelled along with the other children who had just been introduced to magic, they might actually have known how to board a train on a platform that shouldn't exist.

Magic, she exhaled slowly. It had been such a revelation when she was told she was a witch. The letter came first. Obviously, she and her parents hadn't believed it, but then Deputy head McGonagall came over to explain the basics of being a witch. It had been a wonderful day. Allyson had been outside rereading the letter she'd gotten over and over again, wrinkling her nose whenever the sun peeked through the cover of the leaves.

She was homeschooled. Homeschooled from the age of eight because she didn't do well with children her age. Children her age were obtuse, loud without a reason, didn't grasp how other people might think differently than they did. In short, she never liked her classmates too much.

She bent one of her legs at the knee, swaying it back and forth while sucking her lower lip between her teeth. Her best friends were the books she went through and that was fine. She froze when someone's footsteps neared her. Scrunching her eyebrows together, she glanced up at the house. She didn't recognise the light footfalls on the gravel and a thrill of something ran down her spine. She tensed; ready to bolt.

"Miss Gilbert?" a voice asked. "Miss Allyson Gilbert?"

Allyson rolled onto her side, closing her book over the letter and scurried back until her back hit the rough bark of the tree. She looked up with a frown, glancing up into the face of an older woman. She had a stern but not unkind face and, Allyson's frown deepened, she was very tall. That was not the oddest though, the woman wore strange lime-green robes with a pointy hat.

"Yes," she mumbled, "Who are you?"

 _'Or more importantly, how did you get past our fence and onto our property?'_

"My name is Minerva McGonagall," she addressed herself and Allyson clumsily got to her feet. She knew that name, had seen that name on the parchment of the letter and Allyson's eyes flicked back to her house again.

"Perhaps you should take me to your parents?" the woman asked and Allyson glanced back up at the woman.

"No," she shook her head fiercely, "No, they've been upset enough about all of this and it is no longer funny,"

The woman's smile became amused and Allyson stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "You think this is a prank?"

"Of course, I think you're trying to dupe me!" Allyson mumbled. In truth, she had no idea what this was, but she was sensible enough to know that this wasn't normal. "The only thing I can't figure out is why, or how… I'm pretty sure none of the kids from the village are smart enough to pull this off."

The woman, McGonagall apparently, smiled and slowly retrieved a long thin stick from her robes. Allyson raised an eyebrow, refusing to allow any other emotion to flash across her face, but watched with keen interest as the woman pointed the stick at a scuttling bird. With a small flick the bird changed, grew in length and his feathers fell off, leaving a greyish fur. Allyson's shoulders fell as she glanced at the cat in surprise.

"Wow!"

The older woman chuckled and Allyson rubbed her hands together eagerly. "So all those times things around me happened… All these times I did things…"

"Yes," the woman admitted.

"So," Allyson started, flicking her wrist and watching with satisfaction as the wind picked up and several branches fell down out of the trees.

"Yes," McGonagall said again, "but underaged Magic is against the rules."

"Oh, there are rules?" Allyson asked, her interest peaked again.

McGonagall smiled. "Shall we find your parents?"

Allyson nodded now, picking up her book and beckoning her head towards the house.

"Allyson?"

"Hm," she smiled up at her mother, focusing back on the present and glanced around the hall again. Because of her magical blood, she had been accepted at Hogwarts. Her parents were shocked, still were, but Allyson didn't think they really were surprised. She had been able to do the strangest things from an early age on, and being labelled as a witch explained a lot. It didn't mean they were happy to let her go away to an unknown school though.

"What time is it, mum?'' Allyson asked as she leant against the metal of their trolley. Pulling her ticket out, she glanced at it for the hundredth time. What kind of moron numbers platforms in quarters?

"Half-past ten," the woman answered, her eyebrows scrunched together into a frown. "Your father should have been back by now." She continued, standing on her tip-toes staring at the crowd, to locate Allyson's stubborn father.

The eleven-year-old bit down onto her lower lip, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and sat down on her trolley. Wriggling her toes into her shoes the girl folded and unfolded her hands onto the rhythm of footsteps passing by. Magical folks should have been easy to spot. When she had been in the Wizarding shopping area, Diagon Alley, they had all been dressed in long robes. Many women wore strange hats and even the men wore strange headgear that would make Queen Elizabeth seem ordinary. They had odd customs; looking like aristocrats nearly a century out of date. Allyson's eyes flitted over the heads of the many travellers, but again none stood out. She sighed tiredly while pushing the ticket back into the pocket of her skirt.

"Sweetie, watch the luggage trolley. I'm going to find that father of yours." Catherine Gilbert quipped and Allyson nodded absentmindedly.

Her mother was immediately swallowed up by the sea of people. She was beautiful, her curly dark hair practically danced over her back. Pursing her lips, Allyson glanced at her retreating back until she could no longer make her mother out. She had always loved her mother's tanned skin. It was lively and always gave her a warm appearance, which was in contradiction of her own. Allyson's skin was pale and seemed to glow whenever the sun rays fell on it. The only _sign_ of life, as she used to say when the mood would take her, was the slight blushes adorning her cheeks.

With another heavy sigh, she gave a nervous glance at her wristwatch. A quarter to eleven. Frowning, she pushed a lock of hair, the one she had cut off as a child and had been bothering her ever since, behind her ear. Pulling her backpack from the trolley, she looked for ' _Hogwarts; A History_ ', in hopes to find the way to the obviously hidden platform 9¾.

"There we are, boy. Platform 9 - Platform 10. Your platform should've been in between, but I think it has yet to be built.'' A voice behind her said nastily. Allyson's eyes widened before she turned around swiftly.

Coming up from the Station's Entrance, was a boy with messy black hair. His clothes were at least two sized too large and even from the distance, Allyson noticed his glasses were held together with adhesive tape. Next to him, smiling evilly, stood a big beefy man, with hardly any neck and a large moustache. Clapping his hands together in obvious enjoyment, which made Allyson's blood boil, he leant closer to the boy. Allyson couldn't hear what he said, but the boy stepped back and looked around the crowd with a worried expression on his face.

"Well, have fun at school!'' The beefy man suddenly exclaimed loudly, letting the trolley go and turned away. Just before he reached the exit, he turned and gave the boy, no older than twelve Allyson estimated, a mocking wave. The hysterical laughing even reached her ears and Allyson felt slightly unnerved. The boy looked about ready to scream.

He stopped a passing guard, practically attaching himself to the older man, and asked something. The guard's face reddened, pursed his lips and said something. Something nasty, if the reddening of his face was any indicator. The boy immediately let go and stepped back, his cheeks turning a delightful pink.

Allyson swallowed. Those people had been talking about a platform between platform 9 and 10. There was a reasonable chance they were talking about platform 9¾. Talking about going to Hogwarts…

Allyson steered her trolley away from the wall and walked up to the boy. He wasn't noticing her.

"Uhm,—" There was a snow-white owl on his trolley. Oh well, worst case he would think she was a lunatic. He wouldn't be the first. "—looking for Platform 9¾?''

The boy looked up. Relief flashing across his face. He was a bit taller than Allyson and behind his round glasses, he had appealing green eyes. The tense line that was his mouth relaxed and he pushed his glasses further up his nose

"Yeah!'' he said and Allyson smiled. "You know how to get there?'' Her smile faltered.

"Oh," she hadn't thought about that and pursed her lips. "Erm no, I don't know. But I suppose we have a better chance at finding it together?''

The boy smiled and nodded. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he said, offering her his hand. She accepted his hand with a timid smile, all the while wondering why the name ' _Potter_ ', sounded so familiar…

"I'm Allyson, Allyson Gilbert." She replied. "I'll take it you'll be a first year too?"

He nodded. The owl on his trolley hooted, feathers ruffled and yellow eyes peering out into the entrance hall in a way Allyson would call huffy on any human. "I take it Professor McGonagall forgot to mention how to reach Platform 9¾ as well?"

"McGonagall?"

"The Deputy Headmistress who explained what being magical meant?" Allyson asked, but he only looked at her with blank eyes. "Apparently, she wasn't the one who came to you…"

"No," Harry shook his head, "Hagrid came. Are you here alone?"

"Nope," Allyson answered, popping the 'p' before she leant back against her trunk on the trolley. "My parents are somewhere around as well," she explained, "I'm just not sure where they are right now. Dad was looking for someone to help us and mum went away to look for him when he didn't return."

"I see," Harry said. They both looked around the hall once more. According to the large clock, above the arrival board, there were only ten minutes left to board the train to Hogwarts. And they still were nowhere closer to find out where the bloody Platform was. Allyson frowned, it wouldn't do to miss her ride to school. A year of magic was awaiting her and Allyson felt an almost frantic need to learn how to control it.

"It should be here," she said, taking out the little, now rumbled ticket and showed it at Harry with a deep frown marrying her eyebrows. "It says right here; From King's Cross Station, London, to Hogsmeade. Platform 9 and ¾."

"I feel like a fool." Harry snorted, "I'm stranded in the middle of a strange station, with a trunk I can hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money and a grand owl. Where the hell should we go to? How do they expect us to go to this place when they don't explain?"

"I think Professor McGonagall explains where and how to get on the platform when she takes the Muggle-borns out on orientation."

"Orientation?"

Allyson nodded, "Yes when she came to my house she told us that she organised a Muggle-born orientation every year and that I could come along as well— Well, I didn't go, obviously, because I wanted to go with my parents." she finished lamely.

Harry didn't seem to think it was weird and nodded thoughtfully. "Look!"

She followed his pointing finger to a group of red-haired people. Four boys, a plump woman and a small girl pushed past them. They were all wearing old clothes, barely passable in the summer air of Cross station and Allyson was sure she heard the words; '—Packed with Muggles, of course —' and she eyed Harry with barely concealed excitement.

'Muggles,' he mouthed at Allyson. She nodded and they both followed the red-headed family.

"Well, what's the platform number?'' the mother of the four boys asked.

"9¾!" the little girl squeaked. She jumped up and down and her red hair was caught in the light of the sun. Stepping closer to her mother, she grabbed her mother's hand when a Muggle almost bumped into her. Glancing up at the plump woman the young girl squeezed her hand. "Ma, why can't I go too?"

"You're too young, Ginny. You can go next year." The woman admonished sternly before looking at her oldest son. "All right, Percy, you go first."

Harry and Allyson irked closer. The eldest, tall and an imperious look on his face, walked up to the wall separating platform 9 and 10 with firm strides. He had an air of arrogance coming off him in waves, and Allyson felt her toes curl. Just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, he seemed to vanish.

"He disappeared into thin air!" Allyson exclaimed, trying to hush her voice a bit. Harry nodded, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Not into the air, but through the wall," Harry said softly.

"Just as weird though." Allyson chuckled.

Two younger boys, identical twins, walked up next. With encouragement from the small woman, they stepped towards the solid looking wall and seemed to vanish as well. Harry had been right, they vanished through the wall.

"This is weird," Allyson said, frowning slightly. Harry leant on his trolley while fingering the brakes. The second twin went forward. "They just walk towards it?"

"Perhaps we should simply ask?" Harry responded.

Allyson nodded slowly. She supposed they could. Just as they were about to approach the plump woman, a large hand clasped around Allyson's shoulder. Both she and Harry turned around and Harry almost fell against the trolley.

"Dad!" Allyson exclaimed. Mikeal Gilbert towered over them, his sunglasses pushed back on his head and his mouth set into a firm line. He glanced down at Harry with a frown and Harry nervously dragged his hand through his hair. Allyson couldn't blame him. Her father always had an imposing air around him. Something he got from being in politics for so long. "We figured out how to get through towards Platform 9¾." She informed him happily.

"You did?" Catherine Gilbert interrupted, stepping up next to her husband. Mikeal indulged his wife with a small smile, before glancing through the hall.

"Yes, although this might sound a bit strange, oh btw, this is Harry," Allyson said shoving the boy to her parents. "He goes to Hogwarts as well."

Her mother smiled. She was the approachable one. "Hello, I'm Catherine Gilbert, and this is my husband Mikeal." Harry nodded.

"Harry, Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He shook Catherine's hand.

Allyson smiled, "As I was saying, the platform is behind the brick wall. We saw three boys go through it."

Her father gave her a look as if she'd grown a second head. "Through… the wall?" He asked slowly, even Allyson's mother looked unsure. "Pet, don't get me wrong, but how can a platform be behind a _brick_ wall? Without an Entrance to be specific. Even with these wizards and witches, this is bizarre!"

"Ah," a third voice interrupted. "You're going to Hogwarts too?"

They all turned around to the sound of a fifth party. The plump woman from before stood now only a few feet away. The little red-headed girl took hiding behind her.

"Ehm, yes ma'am," Harry said.

"My youngest son is new too. I can imagine it's a bit much at first." the woman explained, chuckling. As both Allyson and Harry glanced at her to elaborate, she pointed at the thick brick wall between platforms 9 and 10, "You'll only have to walk to the wall. Don't stop and no need to be afraid, you'll not collide with it, that's very important. If you're a bit afraid, you better run."

"Wait a minute," Mikeal Gilbert seemed to have found his voice again; "You're telling me they have to run towards a wall? To what, smash their heads open? Who are you anyway?"

The woman smiled. She seemed amused and Allyson was somewhat glad she wasn't insulted by her father's tone. "I'm Molly Weasley, and you really don't have to worry, the wall will allow them to pass through—"

" _Pass through_?" Mikeal started but interrupted himself, when Allyson wasn't the only one to glare at him. Harry chuckled and even the woman smiled gently.

"Well, you do have to hurry. The train will depart in only a few minutes." The small woman said as she pushed the sleeve of her dress — a yellow flower petal pattern adorning it — up revealing a small wristwatch. "I'm sorry, but non-magical people can't pass."

Her father looked as if he was about to protest, but her mother intercepted him: "It's about time Mikeal. We knew it would be— _strange_ , but we promised." Catherine said softly, smiling affectionately at her only child. Allyson felt a lump grow in her throat.

Mikeal nodded slowly, "All right," He turned to his daughter and developed her in a bear hug.

"Don't forget to write us, Sweetheart." Her mother joined in, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You better not forget that."

"I won't!'' was Allyson's smothered answer.

Harry's mouth thinned and his eyes looked haunted for a moment before he schooled his features back to nonchalant. Allyson felt a pang of guilt, remembering what his family had been like. The way his family had dropped him off—

Her mother seemed to notice (she always had an antenna for how people felt). The next thing they knew she had wrapped her arms around the boy. "Do take care of our daughter, she's always a bit awkward and we only have one."

"MUM!"

"I'll keep an eye on them. You won't need to worry. I'll let you know how the boarding goes." The plump woman assured, glancing at her wristwatch again. Although reluctantly, Allyson's parents nodded. Allyson gave them both one last hug, before steering her trolley around and fell into step with Harry.

"Okay, erm, run straight to the brick wall eh?" Harry muttered and Allyson felt slightly less awkward.

Allyson chuckled nervously, before shrugging. The bricks looked quite solid to be running _through_. Harry pushed his trolley to the barrier. He quickened his pace and started to run. Allyson breathed in heavily. She bent over the cart and started to run as well, her feet slipping slightly over the smooth floor. She heard heartbeat drumming loudly into her ears. They were going to smash right into that barrier. Harry was only a foot before her. The barrier came closer and closer. She closed her eyes, and waited for the crash—

It never came… They just ran further…

Slowing down, the wheels of the trolley screeching slightly, Allyson breathed out a sigh of relief. It was a rather fascinating experience. They were standing on a crowded platform, trying to avoid being trampled by other students. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the platform. The board above their heads read ' _Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock_ '.

Allyson felt giddy with excitement. _They made it!_

The smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, beginning to fill the air above her and cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Harry and Allyson made their way to the engine. The first carriages were already packed with students; some students hanging out the windows to talk to their families, some fighting over seats and others were hugging their friends, missed during their summer escapades.

Allyson smiled, wishing she could behold the picture a few moments longer but that just wouldn't do. Their ride was waiting and if they lingered here too long, the Hogwarts Express would leave without her. Harry smiled, before steering his luggage towards the engine. Allyson followed closely behind him. A pair of redheaded boys sprinted passed them, laughing loudly and Allyson recognised them as the twin boys from before.

Owls flew around all over the Station delivering post and almost everywhere Allyson looked there were children with their parents. Harry's eyes lingered over a couple hugging a boy their age and she felt another wave of sympathy run through her. She linked her arm through his and smiled at him.  
They trudged through the chaos of the platform, passing the little girl with the red hair and her oldest brother from before. The boy was tracing his fingers over a shiny badge while the girl glared at the locomotive that was threatening to pull away.

"It's big," Harry muttered awkwardly and Allyson got the distinct impression he'd never been on a train before.

"I'm sure this is going to be a great year." She decided and he smiled thankfully before nodding. They passed an old woman and a small chubby boy. The woman seemed very displeased while the young boy looked upset.

"Gran, I've lost my toad again," a round-faced boy, lower lip struck out, said softly.

"Oh, Neville," an old woman, tall and tired, sighed.

The excitement was radiating off from the students and Allyson smiled happily. They lugged their trunks and made their way down the hallway. Finding a compartment was difficult though. On either side of them, students were packing away their trunks into their compartments, leaving hardly any compartment available. They had to stop every few feet to wait for someone to lead their trunk into their compartment. Allyson sighed, trying to orientate herself a bit while trying to avoid being trampled by the older students. Harry, being a bit faster than Allyson, guided his trunk to the middle of the train in no time.

She stared at his back and dragged her trunk through the train with a slight grimace. The throng of people was suffocating and Allyson was slightly reminded of one of the school trips she had been on when she was attending Muggle school back at Germany. She hadn't liked it all that much. She blew a lock of hair out of her face as Harry suddenly stopped, waving his hand at her eagerly.

"Ah, I found an empty compartment," he cried still waving his hand at her. The compartment was at the very end of the train and Allyson sighed miserable as she started to cross the corridor. She pulled her trunk into the room, the door closing behind her with a thud. The compartment was small but comfy, the seats looked as if they were inviting her to slouch down onto them, and a large window gave you the perfect view outside. Allyson glanced up at the overhead storage and she started to pull her trunk up, trying to stow it atop the luggage rack. She wasn't managing. Giving her an amused look, Harry stepped up next to her. "Need some help?"

"Wipe that smile off your face." Allyson huffed. "But yes, your help would be greatly appreciated."

Standing on his tiptoes, he gave her trunk one good last push, securing it between the ceiling and the metal of the luggage rack, and smirked. "There you go."

Allyson rolled her eyes, before plopping down on the couch opposite and looked through the window.

"Hey, it's the woman from before," Allyson said as she spotted the small plump lady. She was crossing the Platform holding tightly onto the hand of the redheaded girl child — as if afraid she would pull herself free and lunge for the tree — and Allyson stuck her head out of the window.

"Thanks for your help ma'am!" she shouted. The woman's head shot up towards their window. Her head wasn't the only to turn towards her, because her shout had drawn quite some attention to their window. Allyson felt her face redden, and, as several people curiously glanced at her, she pulled her head back inside. She sat down in the leather of the seat, her face heated up considerably.

Harry chuckled, smiling politely as the woman came closer to their window.

"Do enjoy yourself, dears. I will make sure your parents won't worry." The woman nodded to the children, before turning back, probably pursuing her own.

"She thinks we're related," Harry muttered looking amused. Allyson glanced at the boy before clucking her tongue.

"Well, _brother_. What will we be doing while travelling towards Hogwarts?" she asked sarcastically, "Or will you be enjoying yourself with a book?"

He didn't really look like a person who'd enjoyed spending the time it took to get to Hogwarts reading a book, but she didn't know for sure. Harry smiled, before slouching down into his seat. "No, but I have no idea what to do either."

Allyson hummed in agreement, flinching when the train started to depart. Harry glanced through the window and Allyson suddenly noticed a lightning bolt shaped scar on his right temple. She realised now why his name had sounded so familiar. Tapping her fingers against her thigh she decided to let it go. She didn't think she would like to be reminded how her parents would have been killed so it was only fair if he had the same luxury.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "Oh, yes, just thinking…"

He seemed suspicious, self-consciously flattening his hair over the scar. The sound of the train barrelling through the greenery seemed a bit too loud in her ears when the silence fell. Allyson picked at a lock of her hair and glanced outside.

She used to like trains. Used to enjoy watching them pass by when she was a child. It was the only reason her mother used to take the train when she took Allyson out. Because Allyson liked to travel by them. The doors to their compartment reluctantly eased open, shrieking slightly when it got stuck and Allyson frowned when she noticed the youngest Weasley boy squeeze himself inside.

"Erm," he looked at the two occupants cautiously, "can I sit here with you?"

Harry cocked his head. Allyson peered at him. He wrung his hands together and she glanced curiously at the sleeves which stretched up his forearms. His clothes didn't seem to fit him very well. "Everything is already full."

She curiously let her eyes trail over him. He was tall and thin, especially for an eleven-year-old. He seemed nice enough with freckles, watery blue eyes and a nose that was slightly too big for his face. Just like his older brothers and his younger sister his hair was red. It clashed feverishly with his clothes and Allyson noticed he had a black smooch on his nose. He seemed to be pointedly ignoring her and his eyes never strayed from Harry. Allyson thought he looked a bit feverish until the other boy nodded and Weasley smiled.

He sat in the seat across from Harry looking like he was struggling not to barrage the other boy with questions.

Allyson pressed herself against the window, making herself comfortable so she could read a book. Her mother always used to say that three was a crowd and Allyson didn't doubt that with the redhead being a boy, Harry would have more to talk about with him than with her. Leaning her chin onto her hand, she glanced absentmindedly at the red-haired boy again. Weasley's eyes trailed curiously over Harry until the messy-haired boy met his gaze. Reddening until his cheeks almost matched his hair, he quickly looked away. Even with his eyes slanted down, he kept shooting looks at Harry.

"So," Allyson started awkwardly but before she could finish her sentence Weasley scuttled to the edge of his seat and slapped his hands against his knees.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" he asked, an excited etch to his tone. He looked as if the cat was out of the bag and she pursed her lips.

Harry nodded. He looked quite embarrassed. Allyson didn't think she'd ever met someone who was this direct. He wasn't done though and excitedly started prattle. Allyson didn't think anyone had ever said so much to her, without trying to be insulting (even if he wasn't really talking _to_ her).

"Fred and George already mentioned they saw your scar, but I wasn't sure." The boy explained. "You really have — I mean…" he pointed to Harry's face.

"Oh," Harry muttered before pushing the dark strands of hair out of his forehead; the lighting bolt scar became visible again. The boy openly stared.

"So, that's were You-know-who -"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I don't remember anything about it."

Allyson blinked. She didn't think it was all that surprising he had no memory of that day. He'd only been a baby back then, after all. If she was honest, she didn't think she would want to remember her parents' death.

"Nothing?" the red-head muttered, interrupting her thoughts. He seemed somewhat sad about it as if remembering someone killing your family would somehow make Harry better. Allyson wondered what it was that appealed to him. He seemed terribly excited and she didn't understand why.

"Well, a lot of green light, but other than that, nothing," Harry admitted slowly.

"Green," Allyson echoed. She would probably have to ask about that when lessons began.

"Yes," Harry nodded and Allyson shifted in her seat.

"Wow," the boy said, "Oh, I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

Harry smiled, not bothering to introduce himself as Ron already knew his name. Slightly annoyed that Ron Weasley didn't even deem her worthy of being introduced to, she cleared her throat.

"I'm Allyson Gilbert, pleasure to meet you." She introduced, debating if it was that much of a pleasure. Her displeasure grew when he didn't even seem to listen. Harry shifted awkwardly into his seat and with a sigh, she pulled her legs up on her seat.

"Gilbert, that doesn't ring a bell," Ron muttered suddenly, glancing at Allyson as if seeing her for the first time.

Allyson clucked her tongue. "I would be surprised if it did, I'm muggle-born."

Ron nodded, "I see. First witch in the family?"

"As far, as I know of." She answered. In fourth grade, she had tried to research her family name as a history assignment. It hadn't gone well. The name Gilbert was an old name and went back centuries. She was quite sure she wouldn't have known if anyone else from her family tree was a witch or wizard. "I've tried to do some reading, but this world is somewhat different…"

Harry nodded, "It is!"

"So you both live with Muggles. How is that?" Ron asked, his curiosity spiked. She supposed Muggles were as fascinating to him, as witches and wizards initially had been to Allyson and her parents.

She shrugged: "I don't think my Muggle parents differ all that much from any other parent. They raised me and tried to teach me the world. They failed in teaching me manners though." She added with a smile.

"Well," Harry began, his lips quirking at her last comment, "mine are horrible. Not all Muggles are, of course, but my aunt, uncle and nephew they're just… Anyway, I wish I had three wizard brothers instead!"

"Five," Ron said, who, for some reason looked rather bleak. "I'm the sixth who goes to Hogwarts." his face grew ever bleaker and his voice grew angry. "It means I have a lot to live up too. They all have these special qualities and I don't. And also having five brothers, means you get all their leftovers. I mean, I got Bill's _old_ robes, Charlie's _old_ wand and of course I got Scabbers."

"What's a Scabbers?" Allyson asked absentmindedly, surprised at how much contempt he felt for his family. Ron scrunched his nose up in anger. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled out a thick sleeping grey rat of his breast pocket.

"This is Scabbers and he's absolutely useless." Ron declared and Allyson slowly leaned in to study the animal. He leered at her through sleepy half-lidded eyes and Allyson felt a smile pull at the corners of her lips.

"Hm," she finally decided on, "I find him cute."

"Why do girls always insist on thinking things being cute?" Harry asked and Allyson gave him an imperious look.

"I don't _think_ you are cute,"

"Oh, shots have been fired," he grinned and Ron glanced at the two of them with a curious look.

"You think he's cute?" Ron asked, looking skeptic before shaking his head. Apparently, them not making much sense didn't really bother him. "The only thing he ever does is eat and sleep. Percy got an owl for getting to be a prefect," Harry gave Allyson a look, obviously not sure what that meant. "But they didn't have any mon-, I mean, I was stuck with Scabbers."

Ron's ears turned red and he shook his head violently, turning his face to the window. Allyson glanced at him curiously, but he didn't elaborate. Unsure of what to do, she leant her lower arms on her knees and looked at Harry.

"So," she started thinking about her recent acquired Hogwarts a History and smiled. "have you given it any thought what house you want to be in?"

Harry shrugged, but Ron shifted into his seat, suddenly excited again. "Gryffindor!" he decided without missing a beat.

"The house for the brave?" Allyson asked and Harry glanced at her. "I suppose a good house. I liked Ravenclaw as well. I quite enjoy books and I do value intelligence," she muttered, before scrunching her eyebrows together, "Perhaps even Slytherin. I am ambitious and resourceful, or that's what my parents always tell me."

"Merlin, no Slytherin!" Ron said, sneering in disgust. "Believe me, you don't want to be sorted in Slytherin!"

Harry looked up at Ron with vast interest as well. "Why not?" he asked, eyes round and the expression on his face was curious.

Ron gave a frustrated yell and shook his head. "Because only dark wizards go to Slytherin!"

"That's not what the book said," Allyson muttered pulling her bag on her lap. "It's stated that several great wizards came from that house, there are several great wizards from others as well, certainly, but I saw a few noteworthy names like _Merlin_ and— I did some research you see, I feel like I will be behind and—"

"Okay," Ron interrupted. "I'm sure your book doesn't mention that Slytherin breeds dark wizards, did it?"

"Well," Allyson started but Ron shook his head reverently. She was starting to get annoyed again. "Honestly, I don't think a quarter of the school population will turn out evil."

"Yes, well, _honestly_ only bullies, followers and blood-purists go there." Ron snapped. "I'm pretty sure every convicted Death Eater came from Slytherin!"

"What's a Death Eater?" Harry asked suddenly.

"You're kidding right?" Ron asked surprised, "You have to be kidding me because those are the followers of you-know-who!"

"You mean Voldemort?"

Ron flinched, his face suddenly getting pale. "You said his name!"

"I don't get why his name is such a big deal," Allyson said dryly. "But just because a few of his followers—"

"Not a few," Ron snapped. "There are so many of them, I mean the Lestrange brothers, Rosier, he was killed by the Aurors and—"

"Right, guys, different subject, please." Harry muttered when Allyson felt her cheeks go red. So a few examples out of some kind of boogie man's army was enough to declare a whole House evil? Allyson rubbed at her eyes and sat back against the cushions.

"Well, at least when we get sorted, we'll know each other," Harry said, crossing his arms over his abdomen, trying to lighten the mood.

"Assuming we're in the same house," Allyson muttered, "but yes, I suppose we at least know each other."

They spent a large part of the ride in silence. Allyson glanced out of the window, speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. Harry and Ron continued to speak in hushed tones and Allyson listened absentmindedly as Ron explained what he thought they would have to do to get sorted. Their brothers, Fred and George, had told Ron that they had to fight a troll and Allyson snickered behind her hand (that was very inadequate).

Around half past twelve, a dimpled woman with a warm motherly smile passed their compartment with a cart full of all kinds of candy. Harry glanced at the sweets before pulling a sack of galleons out of his pocket and bought up the complete candy cart, leaving them in a mess of colour full candy-bars and chocolate frogs. Allyson had never really appreciated candy, she just didn't care for it.

Propping her elbows up on her knees she settled with a book and listened absentmindedly as the two boys fell into a conversation about Quidditch. She was deeply absorbed in her book when a sharp knock resounded through the compartment, bringing Allyson back from her wandering thoughts. The compartment door slid open and the boy with the round face — Neville Allyson remembered — stepped in. He seemed to be close to tears and his cheeks were blotched red.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice shaking. "but, have you seen my toad?"

Speechless the three children in the compartment all shook their heads. Allyson frowned; hadn't he lost it already on the platform back in London?

"I've lost him," Neville explained. "Trevor always runs away."

"I'm sure you'll find him," Harry said sympathetically. Allyson deducted he must have found it and lost it on the train again before she nodded. Straightening in her seat, she dragged her nails along the arm of her seat. "Perhaps—"

But Neville had already stepped out of the compartment with a strangled sob, and the door closed with a louder thud than was necessary.

"Oh, I was just about to ask if he'd already tried the _Accio-charm_! Well, I suppose he wouldn't, considering we aren't allowed to do any magic outside of school…" Allyson muttered. His grandmother had obviously been a witch — with the strange way of dressing —, and the Accio-charm was a commonly used spell so he might have known it, yet perhaps couldn't perform it.

"The what?" Ron asked. Harry also gave her a blank look. "No wait, I know that one, but that's not a first-year spell."

"No," Allyson conceded, "I've practiced several spells that I thought could come in handy. My father got me an advanced charms book…"

"Right," Ron said clucking his tongue disbelievingly, "A bit of a bookworm I suppose,"

Allyson felt her cheeks grow hot and Harry cleared his throat.

"So?" he asked.

"Nothing," Ron shrugged, "but I mean, there's no real way she can do spells from an advanced charms book."

"Oh, do you think so?" Allyson asked angrily, "Do you want me to show you how to set something on fire?" she asked, glaring at Ron and his eyes widened. Setting something on fire wasn't really an advanced spell, but she was rather good at it. "I seem to have a great affinity for setting things, or people for that matter, on fire!"

"You wouldn't," he stuttered and Allyson pulled her wand out with deliberation.

"All right," Harry said, snickering when Ron scooted to the far corner away from Allyson. "I'm sure you're great at setting things on fire, but let's try to keep this civil."

Allyson felt, what she had learned to recognise as her magic, surge through her and she exhaled loudly. She needed to get out before she actually did try to use one of her spells on him. He wouldn't be the first one she hurt.

"I'm going out for a walk." She said, rubbing her hands together tiredly. "Need to visit the loo anyway. See you two in a bit." She smiled tightly, before standing up — almost tripping over Ron's long legs — and quickly left through the door. The door slipped closed with a soft thud behind her, but the thin barrier was not enough to completely dull the boys' voices.

"She's kinda scary," she heard Ron's voice mutter and Allyson glared at the door.

"I think she's brilliant," Harry answered defensively and she couldn't help but smile. No one had ever thought she was brilliant. Well, her parents did, but they were obviously biased.

She stretched her arms above her head and made her way through the aisle. Several older boys were childishly launching themselves through the hall. She wasn't sure how they could think their little game was even remotely funny or interesting and she sighed; boys were so immature. Trying to avoid being trampled, she quickened her pace and rounded the corner with a huff. She could only barely avoid colliding with an equal displeased looking girl with bouncy chestnut hair and big front teeth.

"I'm sorry," Allyson said, side-stepping a boy with a yellow scarf.

The girl was Allyson's age and had already changed into her school robes. She looked incredibly put out and shrugged. "It's okay," she said, glaring at another boy. Her eyes were filled with so much fury Allyson almost burst out laughing.

Inhaling slowly, the girl seemed to gain some control over her temper and looked back at Allyson: "For God sake, you'd think they would have some common sense?"

"Boys," Allyson said as if that was the only thing she needed to say.

The girl seemed to agree and nodded her head. "Have you seen a toad?" she asked and Allyson slowly shook her head.

"No, sorry," she answered, "Is it Neville's?"

"Yes!"

"He's been asking around for it, but I haven't seen it."

"All right, it was worth a shot," she said, "You probably should get into your school robes. I expect we will be arriving shortly."

"Right, of course, thanks."

Allyson pushed a lock of hair out of her face and watched the other girl turn the corner. She started down the corridor again, seeing a toilet sign in the distance and dodged a tall boy pushing past the crowd. She wasn't really paying attention to the other students around her and almost screamed when someone slammed into her back with full force.

Allyson yelped, hobbled, lost her balance. Her left knee propelled forward to take her weight and she closed her eyes and waited for the impact of the ground. It never came; instead of the hard metallic wall and the scarlet carpet, she knocked someone else down with her. Automatically her fingers twisted around soft fabric and her head hit something hard, stunning her momentarily. Without looking she knew the skin of her knee was seeping blood and the sound of her own heartbeat rushing past her ears was disorienting. Allyson didn't move for a moment, trying to keep her breathing even, as the taste of blood filled her mouth.

"Damn!" A muffled voice grounded out and Allyson's senses slowly returned to her.

She gasped, ignoring the angry pulse of her knee and tried to sit up. When she opened her eyes, her face was inches away from a very annoyed looking blond boy.

To be continued...

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 **A/N: next update at Friday. Let me know what you'll think.**


	3. Chapter 2, The Journey to Hogwarts

**A/N: And here is the third chapter. To the ones who've recently favorited this story, welcome! I hope you'll enjoy the story. On with the story!**

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 **o.O.o**

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 _ **Chapter Two, The Journey to Hogwarts**_

 **T** he sun slowly dipped behind the tall trees and the scenery flashed by in a blur. Rays of warm light filtered through the treetops in little dappled patches, chasing the shadows over the carpet. A lone shaft of sunlight filtered through the window before the train speeded through a mountain. For a moment the train was dipped into greyish darkness, but then the lights of the train turned on.

Allyson sat up slowly. Long legs were tangled with hers and she carefully extracted her arm from under his. The boy was staring back at her. He was pale with silver-blond hair and grey-blue eyes. His face was marred with sharp angles and planes, but it didn't necessarily make him ugly, although perhaps it made his chin a bit pointy. Other than herself, she'd never seen someone who was that pale and she felt the giddy feeling erupt to start laughing hysterically.

Swallowing, she let her weight rest on her elbows and sat up. There was a slight ache in the back of head and Allyson felt a wave of dizziness pass through her.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't avoid you," a voice behind her muttered.

Allyson held her head tightly into her hands, fingers curling into her dark hair. With great effort she craned her neck to look around. He was older, hands fidgeting, face flushed with embarrassment. The other boys, his friends, laughed at his dismay and Allyson felt anger boil her blood. Shifting slightly, ignoring the warm liquid running down the side of her neck, she tried to think of something to say. She came up empty.

"Perhaps, if you didn't use the aisle as some kind of playground, you would have." The blond boy sneered. Allyson couldn't really concentrate on him, her head was hurting. The kid muttered something inaudible, before dashing away.

What a bloody coward. Wiping her head with her sleeve, her vision blurred at the edges and she felt him catch her by the shoulders before she could fall forward again.

"Oh no," he whispered urgently, "not again."

He shook her gently. The panic on his face slowly registering and slowly her mind started to clear and her vision sharpened. She looked at his face again and Allyson noticed his eyebrows twitch, fingers squeezing her shoulder harshly, nails digging into her flesh. Allyson winced slightly.

"Stop staring and get her off me!" he suddenly snapped and then someone grabbed her under her elbows and hoisted her up. Off of the boy and on to her own feet.

"Thanks, Goyle." the boy said.

Allyson looked around warily. The boy who had lifted her up was twice as tall, had large feet and dull eyes. He had long gorilla arms, short, bristly hair low on his forehead and broad shoulders. His lips were pulled back into a sneer and he patted her awkwardly on her back. Her legs wobbled under the pressure.

"Erm, I'm sorry." Allyson said, directing her attention back to the blond boy again. Feeling slightly dazed she pressed her sleeve against the bleeding gash just above her ear and beneath her thick hair.

He sighed, "Yeah, well, don't let it happen again."

Cocking his head, he gave her a scrutinising look. Allyson fidgeted under the stare and slowly lowered her hand. Blood stained the hem of her sleeve and she tried to ignore the slight lightheaded feeling surging through her.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The boy told her importantly, yet not unpleasantly. He offered her his hand and she shook his with her left. He seemed rather relieved she didn't use her bloodied hand and she almost rolled her eyes.

"Allyson Gilbert, nice to meet you."

"Doesn't sound familiar." He muttered, echoing exactly what Ron had said. She was about to respond when another large boy interrupted them.

"Malfoy, I found him. Around the corner, second compartment. The bushy-haired girl confirmed it." He explained somewhat dully. Allyson had never seen such large boys before. The second boy was even larger than the other. He was also very fat, had a thick neck and gorilla-like arms. His nose was flat, as if someone had tried to smash his face against the wall.

He glanced at her through mean beady little eyes and Allyson's eyes narrowed.

"Great!" Malfoy responded, his interest in her wading, "Have to go, Gilbert." He said, somewhat dismissing her. He dashed past her, disappearing around the corner, his cronies — or bodyguards — following. Allyson watched them go with a dazed look. People in the Wizarding world were weird.

"You okay?" a slightly familiar voice asked.

Allyson turned. Seeing one of the redheaded twin-boys from before. His head was cocked to the side and his eyebrows were scrunched together. She dapped at her face with her sleeve again and shrugged non-committal: "I'm fine, thank you."

"Muggle-born, right?"

"Hm, yes."

"You're lucky—"

"Why?"

"He said his surname was ' _Malfoy_ ', right?"

Allyson nodded.

"They say," he started, obviously struggling for the right words. "the Malfoys are— _biased_ on muggle-borns."

" _They_?" Allyson asked. She was beginning to suspect that everyone in the Wizarding World was very opinionated. She wasn't used to such blatant racism. Really, Voldemort had been a dictator, hoping to preserve a race — which was something that never went well —, yet that was ten years ago and now students were blaming other students for the sins of their fathers. Even going as far as claiming that an entire House filled with students was evil because one redheaded boy could name a few examples of people who'd followed the boogey man.

The Weasley boy in front of her waved his hand in the air by way of answering, but when Allyson didn't commented he shrugged. "My dad works with his. He said Malfoy's father looks down on everything muggle related."

Allyson nodded thoughtfully. Yes, very opinionated indeed. "He didn't act that nasty but I wouldn't really know."

The older boy nodded. "Are you sure you're all right? You have blood on your chin."

"I'm fine, really. I just hit my head when I fell. I'll live." She explained, taking note of the slight sting. "I think I'll return to my own compartment now. It was nice talking to you."

The boy smiled and winked before taking off in the opposite direction.

She watched him leave before retreating her steps to her compartment. She would like a subjective advice now. It was hard to make up your mind as to where to belong for the upcoming seven years when everyone had such strong opinions and based past mistakes on a House alone. She was feeling more conflicted then ever about her sorting. At first when she read Hogwarts a History, she thought Slytherin didn't sound all that bad. The House for the cunning and the ambitious…

Allyson was quite sure she was ambitious, as well as levelheaded and cunning when necessary. She knew she could be brave, yet rarely acted without consulting her brain. Only when really angered did she let herself go. She thought she was rather smart as well, but such things were difficult to decide for yourself.

As she neared the compartment she had been in before, she thought about the other houses. Gryffindor sounded nice, but Allyson wasn't sure if she was truly _that_ brave. Being brave when on a high of adrenaline, didn't seem the same as being really brave. She hadn't been easily afraid at Muggle school and did things others wouldn't dare, but the other children thought she had just been mean (and different). She sure as hell hadn't let anyone tease or bully her.

With a slight grimace, she remembered a girl — Frieda Allyson thought she was called — who used to make fun of the way she dressed. Allyson remembered that she had climbed on the climbing rack and this girl had tried to push her off. Tried being the keyword, because Allyson made her fall. She didn't lift a finger, didn't have to lift a finger but the girl tumbled down and broke her collar bone in two places.

It was the first time she had any tangible proof that she could do things, just with her mind. And in her seven-year-old mind, Allyson had preened under the knowledge that no one, absolutely no one, would believe it was her fault either.

A loud yell broke her out of her musings. She was standing in front of her compartment, hand uselessly hovering above the knob. Allyson saw the shape of a boy step closer to the compartment door through the glass and she pressed herself swiftly against the opposite wall. The compartment dour swung open and a flash of blond caught her attention. Draco Malfoy stalked out of the compartment and strode passed her, a dark look on his face and his two cronies — one clutching his hand to his chest — were following closely behind. Momentarily stunned, she just watched the three boys hurry away.

"Bloody hell, I think they killed him!" Ron's voice reached her ears.

'Killed?' Allyson shook her head and entered the boys' compartment. Candy was strewn across the floor and Ron Weasley was crouched down, holding his rat, dangling by his tail.

Frowning, she cocked her head. "Did something explode in here?" she asked surprised.

"Unbelievable!" Ron suddenly shouted, making Allyson jump. "He's gone back to sleep! Again! Stupid thing!" he muttered under his breath and started to shove the animal into his pocket. She blinked stupidly before looking at Harry.

"Don't ask, really, it isn't worth it." He muttered giving Ron an apprehensive glance. His eyebrows furrowed together. "What happened to your face?"

"A boy ran into me," she said. "I hit my head and fell to the floor."

"Oh, okay."

Allyson shrugged before picking her book up again from the couch. She sat herself back down in the window seat across from Harry and set her book down on her lap. She discretely glanced around the room again. The floor was littered with candy wrappers, half-eaten candy and someone's jacket had gotten stuck under the trash bin. _What in the world had happened in the ten minutes she'd been away?_

Allyson had just found the sentence she'd been reading, when the compartment door slid open again. The girl with the frizzy hair and the big front teeth strode in. Her eyes flitted through the compartment before lingering on Harry and Ron.

"What has been going on?" she demanded, looking at the candy wrappers with a frown. Her gaze shifted to Ron and her eyes hardened. Allyson stifled her laughter: Ron Weasley did not make good first impressions.

"You guys weren't in a fight were you?" She asked imperiously.

"No, we weren't," Ron corrected, glowering at her as if her mere presence alone was insulting him. " _Scabbers_ was."

Allyson cocked an eyebrow and looked at Harry again. He shrugged before mouthing: 'I'll tell you later'. She nodded carefully. Ron gave the girl one last withering look before shifting his attention back to Harry: "How is it you already knew Malfoy, Harry?"

 _'Malfoy…'_

She felt a thrill of something slip between the notches of her spine. Her hand stilling above the pages of her book and she exhaled softly. Many of the late Slytherins had been part of the madman's supposed army and she suspected that that Malfoy fellow probably had an uncle or even a father who was a Slytherin _and_ had been in the madman's army. Explained why Ron got all hot and bothered about it.

"I met him at Diagon Ally." Harry explained, waving his hand absently through the air. "He was very, what's the right word, unpleasant."

"I've heard of their family," Ron began darkly, face flushing red. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-know-who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. Says Malfoy's father didn't need a reason to go over to the dark side."

 _'Bingo!'_

Allyson mauled over his words and started massaging the knots in her neck and shoulders. "Someone's _word_ just doesn't add up to bodily evidence, I suppose." She said, pulling her bag out from under her seat. Absentmindedly playing with the straps, she sighed. The ' _Dark_ side' the voice in her head echoed. Witches and wizards surly had a funny way of describing Voldemort's followers. According to her father 'war' wasn't anything but a dark side. You might think you fight for the right side. But 'right' very much depended on your point of view. Add to that the ones who won that same war. Winning a war only applauded the winners, not the losers. The difference between right and wrong was subjective. Allyson shivered. She was glad they looked at right and wrong the way they did now…

She glanced at Ron through half-lidded eyes. She didn't think it was wise to repeat those thoughts into words, so she shrugged her vest off and pulled her robe on. Combined with the black skirt and her plain white t-shirt, it would do fine.

"Can we help you?" Ron asked, turning towards the door.

Allyson looked up questingly. She followed his line of vision to the bushy haired girl. Her amber eyes zeroed in on Harry's scar, just visible beneath Harry's black fringe. She seemed to be comfortable, leaning against the door post. Looking up, like a dear caught in headlight, she shook her head.

"All right, I'm only in here because people are behaving childishly in the halls, running up and down with no care for anything." She explained.

"Oh, she's right," Allyson nodded, holding her fingers between the pages of her book. "I told you that someone ran into me, didn't I?"

"Right," Ron muttered turning to the girl again. "Would you mind _leaving_ while we change?"

"Right," Granger muttered, sniffing defensively, "I've been to the front to ask the driver and he says we're almost there."

Allyson nodded. This girl was rather bossy. Ron trembled, his face flushing a dark red that was anything but flattering and Harry frowned.

"All right, thank you." Allyson said, interrupting Ron's before he could say anything.

Looking around again, the bushy-haired girl frowned. Twisting the hem of her robe between her fingers, she glared at Ron. They weren't getting on, that was for sure."You really haven't been fighting, have you?" the girl said, her demeanour resembling that of a teacher. "Otherwise, you guys will be into trouble before the school year has even started."

"We didn't fight, _Scabbers_ did, I told you!" Ron said icily. "And could you leave now? I'm not going to change in front of _you_!"

"Fine, fine," the girl huffed impatiently, glancing at the rat which was peeking his head out of Ron's breast pocket with a look that said; ' _Yeah, right—_ '.

Ron didn't acknowledge her words and glared her way. The girl bristled, pointing a trembling finger at his face. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" she sniffed haughtily before she spun on her heel, and went out.

Ron looked furiously after her. The compartment door slid close with a sharp thud and Ron proceeded in muttering profanities under his breath.

"What was that all about?" Allyson said, looking at the boys not entirely capable to stifle her laughter. "Honestly Ron, what did you do to her? She looked ready to bite your head off."

"I didn't do anything! That is a show-off. She came in asking for Neville's frog. Bossing us around like she owns us, who does she think she is?" Ron huffed, his face going purple.

Harry shrugged, "She wasn't so bad. She is just a bit of a Know-it-all."

Allyson nodded and curled her legs up under her. "I see, go ahead and change. I'll be reading my book."

They both nodded and she ignored the soft sounds of them rummaging through their trunks. She didn't care much for Ron's flushed face when he fell over his own feet in his haste to get dressed and her eyes never strayed from her pages long.

 ** _Aconite_**

 _There are over 250 species of Aconitum and all of them highly toxic, yet they were used in medicine such as pain-reliever, diuretic, heart sedative and to induce one's sweating. From these species Wild Aconite is the most well known. Wild Acontine, also known as wolfsbane and Monkshood, is most common in Scotland._

 _The Flowers of the Acontine plant are useful in Potion-making, but the leaves are highly toxic. It is most commonly known as an ingredient of the Wolfsbane Potion (page 367)._

When darkness seeped into the sky and the lights above her head flickered to life she shut her book with a thud and glanced outside. Allyson had most of the remaining time of the journey staring out of the window, until she started to feel restless. Although it had been interesting to watch the countryside and the neatly moulded lawns turn into forests, she was hoping she would soon arrive. The ground outside stretched down in a slopping manner until it collided with the churning of the sea. Allyson remembered McGonagall telling her and her parents Hogwarts was located in the mountains.

The skyline had dipped into a dark orange hue, twilight creeping over the lands and chasing the fast retreating lights of the day. With the sun setting the sky seemed to blaze with a lazy fire, while an ink-black darkness crept up from the eastern horizon. When Allyson was younger she'd loved sunsets. The bold spectrum of colour in contrast with the darkened clouds made everything look magical. Even now; seeing the colourful sky made her feel safe and happy. The boys had fallen into a blissful silence and all three of them looked as the sun slipped across the horizon.

As an inky black sky appeared, decorated with countless stars, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Finally," Allyson whispered.

"There it is!" Harry exclaimed suddenly and the three of them shifted closer to the window.

She exhaled loudly, it was immense, but before her over-productive mind could store details away, they seemed to descend a mountain and the view disappeared.

"What about those?" Allyson asked, looking down at the candy-covered floor. Her mouth was drying with the nervousness slowly taking over her senses. The boys didn't look any better. They were both pale as they started to push the sweets into their pockets.

Allyson put her book away in her rucksack and jerked to a standing position. She gave her trunk one last lingering glance — not really sure how she felt about leaving her belongings behind — and swiftly opened the compartment door. She was actually glad she didn't have a trunk to drag behind her through the train when it was this crowded. With everyone moving to the exit she had to hug her rucksack to her chest to avoid getting trampled on or run over by, by older students. Everyone seemed very eager to get out of the constricted area and as the train came to a halt in front of a tiny platform, students started to push outside. Allyson and Harry watched in awe as Ron elbowed his way to the exit. Being tall, even for the average fourteen-year-old — taller than his two twin brothers — he could use his height as leverage. They hurried after him and Allyson exhaled loudly when she stepped out on to the tiny, dark platform.

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 **A/N: what I want to accomplish a background for Allyson as well as to establish a character. In the first version of this story, I don't think I included enough depth and all the grace an eleven-year-old possesses in it either so, I am trying very hard on this one.**

 **Let me know what you think. Good or bad. Was there something you liked or not? I'd love to know.**

 **Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.**


	4. Chapter 3, The Sorting Hat

**A/N: chapter three! Enjoy and let me know. Thank you very much for the comments. I was very pleased!**

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o.O.o

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 **Chapter Three, the Sorting Hat**

 **T** he air was cold and humid as the students poured out in to the cool night air. The stones beneath her feet were damp and Allyson shivered. She was glancing around and tried to orientate herself, when a lamp came bobbing over their heads. The haze of golden light around it threw into clear view a large and tall body. He had a long mane of shaggy black hair and a beard that covered most of his face. The man's hands were as big as dustbin lids and his feet in their boots the size of baby dolphins. He had dark eyes that glinted like black beetles and was at least twice as tall and three times as wide than the average man.

"That's Hagrid," Harry whispered and she nodded breathlessly.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid bellowed before spotting Harry: "Hello there, Harry."

Harry waved curtly and they started to move towards the large man. Hagrid watched over the sea of heads as the first-years gathered around her. Allyson noticed older students making their way up away from the platform.

"Hagrid is the one who came to get me from the Dursleys." Harry said and Allyson nodded in understanding.

"I see," she answered. "I'm sure that went over well…"

"Oh it did," Harry nodded, grinning. "It didn't. Uncle Vernon almost got an heart attack and Aunt Petunia's face turned almost as red as Ron's hair."

She chuckled. "That makes a nice picture."

"The best picture was when Hagrid used his pink umbrella and magicked Dudley a pig's tail." Harry told her smiling brightly. "And I shouldn't have told you that. I promised Hagrid that I wouldn't, he's not allowed to, I—"

"It's okay," Allyson whispered. "I won't breathe a word."

"Come along, follow me — are there anymore firs' years?" the giant cried. When no one answered he turned and went in the opposite direction taken by the older students. Slipping and stumbling the first-years had to jog to keep up with Hagrid's fast pace. They were following, what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them, that Allyson deducted they must be surrounded by a large copse of trees. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice. She wondered absentmindedly if he'd found it…

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, and Allyson smiled, "just round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Allyson's eyes widened as the sight was even more breathtaking than from the train window. On the other side of the lake, pressed atop a high mountain stood an enormous castle, with numerous towers and turrets. The hundreds of windows lit up the distant sky like stars in the night sky, while the light was reflected of the still waters of the huge lake. Almost slipping over the mossy shore she noticed a float of little boats.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called and he pointed at the boats.

Harry was the first to jump in. Ron followed, eyeing the cold, dark water with distaste and carefully clambered onto the boat. Allyson hugged her outer robes more closely around her prone body and allowed Harry to help her into the boat. Dean Thomas, who was even taller than Ron clambered after them and shook Allyson's hand reverently.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then, FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. The evening was a little cold and misty but Allyson inhaled deeply, enjoying the calm and silence.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled suddenly, as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which apparently took them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour. The boats moored themselves and they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles.

Hagrid led the way up a steep path, across a bridge and up a flight of stone steps, hidden in the rock, and they crowded around a huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid asked Neville, who nodded.

Then he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The doors swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch, in emerald green robes answered. Allyson immediately recognised her as the witch, who had visited her and her parents to explain about Hogwarts.

"This, firsts', is professor McGonagall." Hagrid said.

"Thank you Hagrid, I'll take them from here." the tall woman said, before pulling the door wide. She led the new students into the castle. The walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling so incredibly high, Allyson had to strain her neck to look all the way up and a magnificent marble staircase was facing them, leading to the upper floors.

Professor McGonagall led them to a little room, near the double doors leading to what Allyson suspected was the dining room. Allyson could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right. The rest of the school must have already arrived and the young girl wondered what they were going to have to do to get sorted. When Professor Mcgonagall had visited her she had explained they were in the possession of some sort of magical artefact that 'looked inside you' and it would choose the house that would benefit you the most. It didn't sound like they had to do a lot of spell-work to accomplish a spot in a House, yet she couldn't be sure.

"Welcome at Hogwarts, all of you." Professor McGonagall said, her voice quiet yet it carried across the room effortlessly. "In a bit the banquet will start, but before you join, you'll have to be sorted into one of the four houses. During your stay your house will act as your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. All houses have their own noble history with their own witches and wizards. You can earn points for your house, but beware, when you break the rules, points can be deducted. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

A soft murmur travelled through the crowd and several anxious students speculated what House they would be sorted in. McGonagall indulged them for a moment before continuing: "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

"Professor McGonagall?" Allyson asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Yes, Miss Gilbert?"

"After we're sorted how do we obtain the attributes we need for our Houses?" she asked pointing at her plain black robes.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Very good question, Miss Gilbert." Allyson felt her lips quirk. When she met McGonagall she had a lot of good questions. "All of you might have noticed the plain uniforms. After you're sorted, House related neckties wait for you at your dorms and the Hogwarts crests will change into House crests."

Allyson nodded and McGonagall let her eyes flit over the other students. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron, who still had a smooch on his nose. Allyson saw Harry nervously trying to flatten his unruly hair; a fruitless task, if you asked her.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

McGonagall gave them all a stern look, nervous faces staring back, before departing through a small doorway to the side of the chamber.

The students murmured excitedly. Allyson momentarily observed the nervousness in those around her and listened absentmindedly to all of their speculations. Whispered rumours went around on what they'd have to do, but none of them made much sense.

She'd never liked rumours much. Rumours were made up. Rumours hurt people. Changed people. She didn't like them. She didn't liked being lied to. Therefore, Allyson kept quiet. It couldn't be that bad. The only thing that really worried her was which House she would be in. She glanced around to eagerly, ignoring the slight churning of her stomach, and observed the nervousness that manifested in all around her again.

"—Allyson?"

"Hm," she shook her head, concentration broken by a voice from next to her.

"What do you think we have to do?"

"Je ne sais pas," she answered and rolled her eyes theatrically when Ron crunched his eyebrows. "I don't know, can't be that bad. Professor McGonagall said something about a magical artifact. I expect some sort of future career evaluation test, but then for magical Houses."

"A what now?" Ron asked.

"You know some kind of survey that you can take when you want to know which job you are the most compatible with. But, well obviously, it's not for jobs, but for Houses now."

"Makes sense." Harry admitted. "If we really had to battle troll, I don't think so many students would have been left to teach."

Several students around them nodded. Two boys gave her a thankful nod, quite pleased with her logic and then the doors to their right opened. Professor McGonagall returned and they were lead into the ' _Great hall_ '. The first thing Allyson noticed was how bright the Great Hall was. It was illuminated by thousands and thousands of candles, floating in mid-air over four long tables; where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The older students were smiling down at the throng of first-years hovering at the door opening and with some coaching from the Head of Gryffindor House, slowly filled into the dining room.

At the end of the hall there was another long table were the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall beckoned the first years to follow her up there. Allyson looked up, itching to see the bewitched ceiling, which she knew would show the sky. At the moment it was pitch dark, decorated with thousands of stars.

"I've read about that in 'Hogwarts, a history'," the bushy haired girl — Hermione Granger according to Harry — explained, "it is bewitched to look like the sky outside." Neville followed her gaze, but his eyes were unfocused.

Ron rolled his eyes and made a face, sneering at Granger's back. Allyson shook her head, before leaning up to him and whispered "She's right you know."

"Shut up." He huffed, shoving her lightly. Her nerves slightly distinguished.

Professor McGonagall walked up to the teachers' table, took a thick roll of parchment from the table and proceeded to a small stool standing alone on the dais in front of the teachers' table; so all students could see.

On the stool she softly placed an old pointy brown leather wizard hat. The first-years all crowded around the stool and some stood on their tip toes, to look at the stuffy old thing. Allyson noticed they were not the only ones. The rest of the students and also the teachers were glancing down at the Hat with something akin of expectation on their face. She wasn't sure what they were expecting.

A rip near the brim opened wide like a gaping mouth, and, to Allyson's surprise, the Hat started to sing:

 _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter Hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindor's apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _so put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a thinking Cap!_

The song, despite the somewhat cringeworthy heights, was met by the whole hall bursting into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again. Allyson pursed her lips thinking about the virtues of the four Houses the Hat sang about. Ron's face had turned red. She frowned at his furious face and shared a look with Harry.

"So we only have to put the hat up?" Ron whispered to Harry and Allyson. "I'm going to kill Fred! He said we had to fight a troll!"

"Siblings," she retorted as if that said it all and Ron nodded furiously. She glanced at the stool again. Why did they have to do this in front of everyone? Why not in a _broom_ - _closet_? She would have liked the anonymity much more.

"When I call your name, you come to the stool in the front and you'll be sorted." McGonagall said, holding a scroll in her hand.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the Hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF." shouted the Hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at her new House table. A ghost waved merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Booth, Terry!" A pleasant looking boy, a bit taller than Allyson, with very large brown eyes and a round face walked up to the stool. He had close-cropped light brown hair that suited him nicely.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Various students of the Ravenclaw table stood up and two of them shook the young boy's hand. As the sorting continued the first years thinned out. Allyson looked around, trying to memorise the faces of the new students, yet failing a bit. McGonagall was still calling out names for people to be sorted. 'Bulstrode Millicent' became the first to be sorted in Slytherin and the table on the far right cheered as she crossed the hall over to them.

Allyson started to feel rather worried now. She remembered that when she still attended Muggle school she was always picked last during sports. She didn't care back then, but now, when they were about to pick her house. She curled her fingers into fists.

'Brown, Lavender', went to Gryffindor and Allyson stuck her hands into her pockets. Feeling eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder staring straight in the face of Draco Malfoy. His eyebrow slightly furrowed. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve an enigma.

"Gilbert, Allyson!"

She gulped. Harry squeezed her shoulder sympathetically before she slowly crossed the hall and walked up to the stool. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was a large hall full of people curiously peering at her. She was slightly curious how it was that the world went black but then a voice echoed around her head.

'Nervous, young one?' a voice in her ear said. Fighting the urge to jump, she nodded numbly. She didn't wish to look like a fool, but it felt rather weird.

'A fine set of brains. Familiar magic in your blood.' She furrowed her brows. Familiar?

'Ah yes, you remind me of a boy, two decades ago. A young Slytherin.'

 _A Slytherin, so Slytherin_? She thought. _Well, I suppose I could work with that._

'Yes, I feel a strong sense of ambition. A nice set of brains, quite intelligent, loyal, not very challenged at your first school, were you? Well, we're about to change that.'

 _So Ravenclaw?_

'Perhaps,' the Hat mused and she frowned.

Allyson heard the murmurs around her rise. She was taking longer than the average student.

'Well, you're a difficult customer. I see potential, but not just in one house. Not Hufflepuff though, you might be a hard worker, yet you refuse to work as a team.'

Allyson frowned at that. She had always worked alone on projects in classes, but on the other hand not many people wanted to work with her. Too many weird things happened around her. Then there was the strong notion that she simply did tings better on her own.

'No, you never had a reason to work as a team. They weren't very pleasant to you, were they?'

 _Not really…_

'Well, at least try to remember not to hurt the people around you when you're here. They don't take lightly to it.'

 _Wasn't planning on it._

The echo of laughter reverberated through her head and she squeezed her eyes shut. The hat went silent for a moment. Other than the student body, the only sound she could decipher, was the sound of her heartbeat, echoing loudly into her ears.

"Yes, that will do…"

 _To be continued_

* * *

 **A/N: chapter three. I'm very busy with school right now, but I promise more updates will come soon. Leave a review and let me know what you'll think!**


	5. Chapter 4, The Banket

**Oh my! It's a new chapter! Yes, I'm shocked too. To be honest, I'm in my final year of school and I didn't think I would ever feel drowning in schoolwork, but I actually am drowning in schoolwork, but I will slowly returning to my normal schedule. I actually have the chapters ready to, mostly doing the last check ups. Anyway, please enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Four, The Banket**_

 **T** he Hat fell momentarily silent, while the murmurs in the Great Hall rose. Curling her toes in her shoes, Allyson tried to remember how many people had already been sorted. Numbers had always calmed her in a way other things hadn't. The Hat kept silent for a moment longer before:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

She slowly pulled the Hat off, feeling slightly dazed and smiled at Professor McGonagall. Slowly, she put the Hat back on the stool and walked up to the Gryffindor table amidst loud applause. From his place by the Head Table, Headmaster Dumbledore was clapping politely with a carefree smile on his face and several other teachers were too.

She smiled awkwardly when students started to shake her hand and felt her mind reel when she heard so many names, which she would not remember at all in the next morning. She sat down next to another first year; Chrissy Golding who patted her back and reassured her that Gryffindor was the best. The muscles in her cheeks felt already strained and with an awkward smile, she turned back to watch the rest of the sorting.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The bushy-haired girl ran up to the stool and jammed the Hat eagerly on her head. She could see Ron mutter something, and could almost imagine him praying the girl would not be sorted into Gryffindor. The Hat took its time; Granger's mouth pursed and Allyson realised she might have been arguing with it. After a few minutes the Hat raised itself up on the girl's head; the flap opening:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron looked devastated, his head falling back on his shoulders in defeat. Allyson almost laughed. Under a smattering of applause, Hermione Granger jumped up and practically ran to the Gryffindor table before stuffing herself between the first year, Amy Geagen, and an upper year, who's name Allyson no longer remembered. The brunette nodded happily at Allyson and Allyson smiled back before turning her attention back to the sorting.

The remaining first years were anxiously rubbing their hands together in the middle of the hall. Harry Potter had clapped for her enthusiastically but now he looked troubled. He and Ron Weasley were almost numbly looking at the sorting.

Allyson tried to concentrate on the last students getting sorted, but it was hard to concentrate on it when Hermione Granger started chattering nervously to Amy Geagen. She seemed the type to babble when she was nervous. Allyson tore her gaze away and glanced at McGonagall.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The chubby boy who kept losing his toad almost fell over his own feet on the way towards the stool and the Hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!", Neville was so excited, he jerked up and ran off towards the Gryffindor table, while still wearing the Hat. Amid gales of laughter, he had to jog back to give the Hat to "Morag MacDougal", who was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Malfoy, Draco" was next. He swaggered rather nonchalantly up to the stool. The Hat hardly touched his head, before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Looking very pleased; his smirk gleeful and his strut confident, he sauntered over and slipped down between the gorillas; Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. There weren't many students left. "Moon"… "Nott"… "Park"… A pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"… "Perks"… And then—

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, loud whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. Their voices filtering over the students' heads:

"Did she say Potter?"

" _THE_ Harry Potter?"

Students all around Allyson got to their feet to get a better view, craning their necks, their faces turned towards the stool. Allyson sighed, as Harry sat down. His jaw was set and his shoulders tense. It must be hard to be famous for something you didn't even remember doing. Harry's emerald eyes were blocked immediately from view when Professor McGonagall dropped the Hat on his head. The Hat was silent for some time. Allyson noticed Harry's hands grip at the edges of the stool; his knuckles turned white. It looked as if he was arguing with the hat as well.

Professor McGonagall eyed the back of Harry's head owlishly. Her lips forming a thin white line as she pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took off the Hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the prefect stood up to shake Harry's hand and the Weasley twins started yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Harry sat down next to Allyson, who patted him on the back as Chrissy had done. "There you go; sorted and all."

Harry gave her a small smile and sighed.

He looked around and his gaze lingered on the High Table, where the teachers were seated. Allyson followed his gaze. At the nearest end of the table sat Hagrid, who gave him the thumbs-up. Allyson softly chuckled and brought her gaze back to the sorting. There were only three people left.

"Turpin, Lisa" was a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron's turn. The boy was pale and a green tinge started at his neck and ascended to his cheeks. Staggered up to the stool, he almost collapsed on top of it and pulled the Hat on. It didn't take long:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

They watched as the, now, white-faced boy made his way to the table. He slumped down next to Harry's other side, without a word. His brother Percy the Prefect arched over them to Ron while pompously saying, "Good work, Ron. Excellent work."

At the same time "Zabini, Blaise" got sorted, and waddled over towards the Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. The murmurs around them were deafening and Allyson glanced around the Hall again. In the middle of the large High Table sat an elderly wizard with long, silvery hair. Professor McGonagall took a seat next to him and she nodded.

"Welcome!" He said, slowly getting up to his feet. Arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see the students all together and he cleared his throat. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Everyone clapped and cheered, while he sat down again. Allyson furrowed her eyebrows. "Is that?"

"That's Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," Angela Johnson, who had brown eyes and long black hair, said.

"I see," Allyson answered glancing at the High Table again.

"Is he— a bit mad?" Harry asked from beside her and Allyson pursed her lips thoughtfully. She didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Mad?" Prefect Percy asked airily. Allyson snickered while Ron imitated his brother's face, not that Percy was realising. "Great mind! Greatest wizard of all time! But yes, I suppose he is a bit off his rocker." Offering them a plate with potatoes, he smiled politely. "Potatoes, Harry?"

Barely unable to contain her excitement she starting to fill her plate. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table before. There was roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops and roast chicken in hand reach, but there was so much more.

"That looks really delicious!" A voice behind her suddenly asked.

Allyson chocked on her roasted chicken before turning to the voice. Harry had been in the middle of chopping his beef into small pieces and glanced carefully at the hovering transparent ghost behind him. He was wearing a Victorian sort of coat with a lace collar and a sad smile onto his gaunt face.

Harry swallowed: "And you can't —"

"I haven't eaten in almost five hundred years." The ghost said. "It's not like I needed it, of course, but I do miss it." He gave a last longing glance at the many plates filled with food. "May I introduce myself, I'm Sir Nicolas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service. I'm the resident ghost of Gryffindor tower."

"I know who you are!" Ron said suddenly, a half-eaten potato falling from his fork. "My brother told me about you— You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"Honestly, I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicolas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but he was interrupted by a sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicolas looked rather miffed, obviously not happy with the course of their conversation. "Well, like this," he said irritably. He grabbed himself by his left ear and pulled. His head flicked aside and fell on his shoulder as if it was only attached to one single hinge. Allyson's mouth fell open. It did indeed look as if someone had tried to behead him, but hadn't quite managed.

Nearly Headless Nick seemed to take pleasure out of their stunned faces. He threw his head back up and coughed a few times before he said: "So— new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor has never failed to win so long. Slytherin got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron is becoming almost unbearable lately — that's the ghost of Slytherin!"

Allyson looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin table and saw a horribly disfigured ghost, with blank, staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood sitting one seat away from Draco Malfoy. The pale boy didn't look too pleased with his table mate either.

"Where did the blood come from?" Seamus asked.

"I've never asked," said Sir Nicolas delicately.

Allyson resumed with her dinner. She took several forkfuls of salad and a long drink of her tea as twin brothers Fred and George talked about the school, about Filch and about the moving staircases. The food was all delicious and even though the twins were sometimes difficult to follow their information was valuable. When deserts appeared she was already content and sleepily lounged in her seat, nursing a cup of Earl Gray tea. She held her teacup nonchalantly and tried to pay attention to the others.

"I'm half muggle, half wizard," Seamus explained. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"One can only imagine," Allyson retorted, sipping her tea.

Seamus grinned and she rubbed at her burning eyes. He smiled cheekily at Neville, who in turn paled. "And you Neville?"

"Tired too?" Harry whispered incoherently, as Neville launched in a story about being thrown out of the window and how that was his first bit of magic.

"Yeah," she opened one eye. Harry gave her a quick smile, before he looked away; towards the High Table. Allyson didn't really understand what was so interesting about the teachers, but then again she couldn't focus enough to make a distinction between the people at the table either way.

It happened suddenly. Harry jumped up, clapping a hand to this head. Allyson gasped, as his knee painfully collided with her femur. Curling her leg up under her, Allyson gave her friend a worried look.

"What is it?" Percy asked, looking up from his apple pie.

"N-nothing." Harry stuttered, still massaging his forehead. His face had paled and his pupils were dilated.

"Who's the teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" He asked tersely.

Allyson followed Harry's line of vision back to the teachers' table, fully awake yet again. The adults were conversing silently with each other, unaware of the stares they were receiving. Albus Dumbledore sat in the middle of the table; his fingers curled around the stem of his wine goblet. His head was turned away from the students, as he spoke quietly to Professor McGonagall, sitting at his right side. At his left side sat a very small wizard who must have been sitting on quite a high chair in order to reach the tabletop. Her gaze lingered on a strange looking man with a purple turban seated next to a man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Both teachers seemed to be deeply engrossed in their conversation.

The hook-nosed teacher had an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he looks so nervous, that's Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House. He's the Potions Master — though everyone knows, he wants Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Professor Snape does." Percy explained.

"I see,"

"Why?" Allyson asked.

Harry smiled reassuringly to Allyson. "It's nothing, really I'm fine."

Allyson nodded slowly. "If you say so…"

When the dinner plates disappeared Professor Dumbledore got to his feet, effortless taking up the attention from the complete Great Hall. The murmuring voices fell silent and Dumbledore smiled welcoming. "Ahem— just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, but a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

Hermione Granger inhaled sharply; her hand inching towards the bag she insisted on having on her lap. "The forest is forbidden…" she muttered softly to herself.

"I have also been asked by Mister Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." Dumbledore continued. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch."

Ron gave a long painful sigh, which was met with an annoyed stare from Hermione Granger and a lifted eyebrow from Allyson. She had heard about Quidditch, played with four balls and on flying brooms. She had heard enough about the sport to know it wasn't for her. If it wasn't tennis or sailing she didn't care much.

"Ron?"

"First years are not allowed to play Quidditch," Ron explained gloomily and Harry shrugged.

"Right," Allyson mumbled. "We are not allowed to play the game on brooms ten feet into the air. I'm sure I'm devastated."

He stuck his tongue out and Allyson grinned.

"And finally," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Hall again. "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Allyson scrunched her eyebrows, and a few other students laughed. 'Was that man for real?'

"He's not serious, is he?" Harry asked and Percy the prefect smiled tightly.

"Must be," Percy said with a miffed expression. "That's odd, he usually gives an explanation for new rules. He didn't even bother to tell the prefects about this." He continued, seemingly peeved _he_ wasn't told beforehand.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried. Allyson almost let out a laugh, this man reminded her of her crazy mathematics teacher in Germany. When she looked at other teachers, she noticed that their smiles became rather fixed. 'Yep, definitely like her maths teacher!'

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he were trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

The cacophony was deafening as the entire school bellowed:

 _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

 _Teach us something, please,_

 _Whether we be old and bald_

 _Or young with scabby knees,_

 _Our heads could do with filling_

 _With some interesting stuff,_

 _For now, they're bare and full of air,_

 _Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

 _So teach us things worth knowing,_

 _Bring back what we've forgotten,_

 _Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

 _And learn until our brains all rot._

Everyone finished the song at a different time. At last, only Fred and George were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they finished, he was one of those who clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic, beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The whole hall seemed to come alive. All the houses went to their dorm rooms. The first-years being led by their House prefects. The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy Weasley through the chattering crowd; out of the Great hall, and up the marble staircase. Turning right and left; through the labyrinthine passages, up the maze of stairs to finally appear onto the 7th-floor corridor. They came to a halt in front of a large painting, with a fat lady dressed in a pink silken dress, one would probably find on a prima donna girl.

"This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room," Percy explained slowly. "The password is 'Caput Draconis'." The fat lady moved in her frame, nodded to the first years and the portrait hole swung open.

"Really, everything moves, appears and disappears around here!" Allyson mumbled to Harry, who seemed too stunned to give a response; so he just nodded.

They all climbed through the portrait hole — Neville needed a hand — and stepped into the Common room. It was a cosy circular space, decorated in the house colours red and gold. The walls had several scarlet tapestries which depicted famous witches and wizards. Filled with Squashy armchairs, small tables, and a bulletin board lined on one wall, the room was almost too crowded. A window on the left looked out onto the school grounds and a large fireplace in the centre of the room dominated one wall.

"Dormitories are this way," a Prefect girl explained, earning a displeased from Percy. Smiling at a quivering Neville Longbottom the girl led the first-years to two spiral staircases. "Boys take the right and girls take the left."

"Girls to the left," Allyson echoed and the Prefect girl smiled.

"Indeed," She nodded. "Boys, take notice to not take the wrong stairs. Accident or not, there will be consequences."

Percy looked sour before beckoning the boys to follow him, up the stairs and the Prefect girl led them up the left staircase. Allyson grinned as she climbed up the spiral staircase and recalled that the staircases to the girls' dormitories were enchanted to keep teenage boys out; stairs changing into a slide and a siren would sound. It seemed to her, that wizards were quite old fashioned, considering girls could get into the boys' dorm rooms.

The dormitory was a circular room decorated similarly to the common room. Scarlet curtains hung from the six four-post beds spaced evenly around the perimeter. The dorm room was equipped with a centrally located stove. Each four-poster bed was flanked by a set of windows and some space to store their belongings. On the windowsill was a large water jug, probably for when any student should feel the need for a drink in the middle of the night.

"I'm quite nervous for tomorrow." Chrissa Golding said, rubbing her hands. "What subject are you looking forward to the most?" she asked.

Allyson was silent for a moment. "Transfigurations, I suppose. It sounds really interesting to change objects around you with just a flick of your wrist."

"I suppose so," Chrissa started thoughtfully, "but also a handful. I've heard it's one of the most difficult subjects there is."

Allyson nodded. "I'm more worried about potions though. If it is anything like cooking, I'll suck at it."

That last statement caused the girls to laugh. Allyson found her trunk already by a fourposter bed and she flopped back on it. Tracey sat down next to her glancing at Allyson as she put a picture of her parents on her nightstand.

"Why is it not moving?"

"The picture?" Allyson asked, smiling amused as Chrissa tapped her finger at the picture frame. She frowned and nodded at Allyson.

"It's not supposed to move. It's a Muggle picture."

"I see," Chrissa said cradling the picture in her arms as if it was a prized possession. Allyson had the distinct feeling she knew where to look for it if it ever went missing. The other girl carefully set the frame down and bounded to the other end of the room, finding her own bed. Allyson shrugged out of her clothes and tiredly changed into her pyjama.

"God, I'm tired." She mumbled to herself as she tiredly crept under the covers.

"Shouldn't you brush your teeth?" Hermione Granger's voice demanded, although not unpleasantly. Allyson cracked one eye open to see Hermione lean against the post of Allyson's bed.

Moaning, slightly annoyed, she propped herself up on her elbows and picked her wand up from her desk. "I've got magic. Just as effective and much faster!"

"Oh, really? Which one?" Granger's voice sounded excited.

"Scourgify, which cleans practically everything" Allyson explained tiredly, rubbing at her eyes. "Or 'Tergeo', although that is more used to syphons material from a surface," Allyson added as an afterthought, already deciding on the first option. She slowly made the indication with her wand, pointed at her mouth and muttered: "Scourgify."

"I see," Hermione answered. Allyson rolled on her back and propped herself up on her elbows before sitting up, making a small hand gesture for her to sit or move along. The girl opposite of her plopped down happily. She had never been popular amongst her peers and as Hermione Granger started to prattle on about _Hogwarts a History,_ she wondered if being smart and different was a required notion to be popular in the Wizarding World.

"So, you've been reading up on the subjects as well?" Hermione Granger ended her monologue about the different classes and Allyson nodded slowly.

"Yes, I wish I could do more than just read through the books, but my parents didn't appreciate the floating furniture." She said, remembering her father's peeved expression when the couch caught fire.

"My parents don't really understand. I tried to explain, but well, I didn't really understand either." Hermione said. "Let me introduce myself formally. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Allyson Gilbert, it's a pleasure," Allyson said, shaking Hermione's hand.

Hermione smiled before crossing the room to her bed and changing into her pyjama. Allyson pulled the blankets up till under her chin and glanced around the room, eyes flitting over the dusty, musty tapestry and lingered on the old wooden frame of the window. She smiled as she rolled her wand through her fingers scourified her mouth — which felt really weird — again and cuddled her pillow against her. This was going to be a fantastic year.

 _To be continued…_

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 **A/N: Please, leave a review!**

 **See you soon!**


	6. Chapter 5, 148 stairs

**A/N:** **A very long chapter! Enjoy and please leave a review!**

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o.O.o

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 _ **Chapter Five, 142 Stairs**_

 **T** he castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, surrounded by high trees and a huge iron gate, stood proud and strong on top of a hill in the north of Scotland. Small swirls of smoke curled up from the turrets and dissolved into the twilight, while the early morning light fell gently on the windows. The school grounds were large and the scrubby grass and tussocks stretched out in all directions. The towering wrought iron gate was overgrown with creepers and creaked open out of their own accord when a man, clad in dark robes, stepped closer.

Marching past the gates and onto the path, the man waved his hand irritatedly at the light rain. Wet grass stuck to his dark loafers and the wind raked at his robes. A flight of stone steps led up to the huge double doors of the castle's entrance and the figure quickened his pace when the light rain became a heavy drizzle.

A watery sun broke through the clouds, yet the rain kept coming down. He passed a wooden cabin, a dog growled softly but no other creature seemed to mind this man sauntering over the school grounds at such an early time. Perhaps if the creatures knew what was to come they would—

But no one did and quite practically no one cared— Well no one, but one—

Allyson Gilbert woke up early; the birds chirping loudly and her eyelids heavy. Unlike many, the early hours of the day didn't bother her and she stretched her arms lazily above her head. She just lay there for some time, watching a watery sun splay out over the ceiling, before carefully kicking the covers back. Allyson wasn't used to sharing a bedroom with others and as everyone was still asleep she crept silently through the bedroom.  
She hadn't been in the bathroom last night and slowly stepped into the white-tiled room. It was large with several cabinets decorated with the Gryffindor House colours and two large sinks hanging from one wall. Three shower stalls were lined up on the wall opposite and a clean toilet was partly hidden by a small alcove-like structure. Allyson stared at her reflection peering back from the bathroom mirror and self-consciously pushed a lock of tangled hair behind her ear. After fixing it in a simple braid, she took a lengthy shower.

When she entered the common room ten minutes later, dressed in her brand new school-robes, it was completely deserted. Orange embers glowed dimly into the fireplace, while a window stood ajar, filtering the cool breeze inside. Despite the early hour, Allyson smiled. She plopped down onto a Squashy armchair before pulling one of her study books out. Being on her own for the largest part of her life, Allyson enjoyed being alone. She sighed softly in the peace and quiet and silently read a paragraph out of her history book. After the discussion she the day before, she had decided to read up on the war. Modern Magical History explained in vivid detail the rise and fall of Gellert Grindelwald in Europe and later the rise of Self-proclaimed-Madman — because let's face it that's what he was — Voldemort in Great Britain. Several paragraphs hinted he was trying to take over the world, but Allyson mentally snorted at that. As far as she was concerned he had never gotten further than Britain. He wasn't like the blond menace who actually invaded a large part of Europe using the Second Muggle World war to justify killing thousands.

 _For the Greater good…_

She held her fingers between the pages and glanced outside. The grounds looked peaceful and a small drizzle of rain swept against the windows of the castle. She always liked the soft and rhythmic sound rain would bring; thudding onto the transparent vast surface of the glass.

As the watery sun broke through the clouds again, Allyson frowned. A dark figure, robes billowing in the wind, crossed over the grass field. The figure was holding onto his hood with one pale hand as the wind mercilessly tugged at it. Allyson deducted _he_ was probably male, as he was tall and broad-shouldered. She squinted her eyes while trying to see the person's face, but before she could see any details of his face he disappeared from view.

With her forehead still pressed against the cool window, Ron and Harry came down the stairs.

"Morning!" Harry greeted her.

Allyson gave him a small smile before jerking up to a standing position. Seeing a man stalk over the grounds wasn't such a strange thing, but for some reason, it felt odd. Packing her bag, she met up with the two boys at the common room entrance.

"What were you looking at?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea," Allyson muttered, looking around the corridor. Everything looked alike and she wondered how long it would take before she would know her way around.

The lessons were filled with theory and even the simplest of spells were bound to rules, correct wand movement and the correct pronunciation. The first years had seven core-subjects, which they could choose to pursue more thoroughly after fifth year; Herbology, which was given in the Greenhouses, Charms, given by Professor Flitwick and History of Magic, which was the most boring subject one could encounter. In addition, they had Astronomy, which was given by Professor Sinistra, Transfigurations, given by the strict Professor McGonagall, Defence Against the Dark Arts, given by Professor Quirrell, and Potions, given by Professor Snape; Head of Slytherin House.

From the moment Harry stepped out of bed the first, whispers followed him. Students kept coming up and introduced themselves and several students even went as far as asking for an autograph. People waiting in line to get into their classroom stood on their tiptoes, craning their necks and tried to get a look at him. Harry kept his head down, she thought he might try to become invisible, yet, Ron revelled in the attention. Harry saw that as nonverbal consent to duck behind the redheaded boy whenever he wanted. Allyson realised before long, she still had no patience with most children her age and tried to keep herself distracted by solving difficult math problems.

At least the classes were interesting. The first week had passed in a blur of classes and exploring the castle. The subjects were wonderful and, although settling in took some getting used to, the Allyson liked most of her teachers. The castle, which looked already huge from the outside, was even larger from the inside. There were seven upper floors, a few towers and more turrets than Allyson could've counted. Navigating oneself between classes proved to be challenging as staircases had the tendency to move — a splendid idea of Rowena Ravenclaw — and it was less than pleasant when they did so while you were ascending or descending them.

It was on the third day, she lost her cool. They had been looking around for their charms class, and as usual, they were at the wrong part of the castle. As Allyson flipped through her notebook with an untidy drawn map of the school, a boy almost slammed into her. At first, she had thought it was her fault for not watching where she was going and swiftly readjusted the straps on her bag when she noticed the group of students following them.

 _She had enough of people pointing fingers and following them._

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Allyson snapped as yet another boy gasped and pointed at Harry's scar. "Don't you lot have an ounce of subtly into your body?"

Clearly taken aback by the display of pure hostility the boy stuttered. He was older than Allyson, but she couldn't find it in her to care.

"Yes," she snapped, as Harry tried to usher her away. "You are quite right. That's Harry Potter, very clever of you! And shall I indulge to you a little secret? He breathes oxygen just like you do _and_ once in a while he actually reads a book and uses the toilet just like the rest of the student body! Now that you know this, leave him alone." She hissed; Harry finally succeeding into dragging her away.

Rounding the corner, Ron smirked at her. "That was brilliant. You are brilliant."

"Thanks, Ron." She answered, glowering at the stunned boy they left behind and as she was about to make a vulgar gesture, Harry bodily pushed her into the next corridor.

"Are you always this impatient?" Harry asked seriously, but couldn't quite hide the small smile.

"Yes, and you better get used to it." She dryly retorted, pushing a lock of dark hair out of her face. "You're definitely stuck with me now."

Clucking his tongue, Harry shrugged, while Ron gave her an impressed look. "You are nothing like the girls I've met before—" he said wistfully and Allyson wondered exactly what kind of girls Ron had met before. In the end, she didn't ask and he didn't explain.

In the early afternoon, the students were free to participate in long strolls over the grounds and enjoy a nice meal in the Great Hall. Just like dinner and breakfast, lunch was great and the boys used it as some kind of 'stuff your face with everything you can get your hands on' moment. Which was vaguely amusing as well as it was disgusting…  
Ron Weasley didn't seem to have been taught any form of etiquette and really resembled a wild animal during feeding time. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met and while he didn't seem to grasp the basic context of etiquette, yet, he was a source of knowledge when it came to all the strange customs in the Wizarding world.

The Wizarding world…

The Wizarding world could be considered backwards in many ways. Not only did they refuse to use recent Muggle inventions — like electricity — there was a hierarchy. Allyson had always been far more intelligent than her peers — it came from parents with certain high expectations — and combined with the accidental magic, she had not been able to make many friends when she went to a Muggle school. That hadn't changed for the better when her parents decided she needed advanced homeschooling away from her peers.

The way Ron spoke about certain things, even if he hadn't realised it himself, made it clear to her that connections were everything. Not only that, but the magical world seemed to be more corrupt and prejudiced than the non-magical world. As a Muggle-born witch, Allyson would always be a second or even a third class citizen. The ones in power were the old Pure-blood families with the old money.

Many of the Pure-blood students — mostly the older ones — made it clear they thought themselves to be better. Blood purity was one of those outdated, mostly, Pureblood beliefs, that quite baffled her. More than once she was shoved aside, to make way for some jerk or the other and every time the urge to hex one — older be damned — grew stronger. She'd even decided she could claim it to be accidental magic. Or she could use a spell the textbooks considered too advanced for her and deny being responsible for it.

She suspected she might even get away with it, as long as she didn't do it during McGonagall's rounds. Professor McGonagall wasn't a teacher to cross. Except form having a lethal sarcastic streak she was very strict and was clever. More than that, McGonagall was the witch who kept an extra close eye on her. She wasn't obvious in her observations, like the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Quirrell and the Charms Flitwick were, but from the moment the first-years stepped into the Transfigurations classroom, Allyson had felt her teacher's eyes on her. They had just taken a seat behind a desk, pulling out textbooks, parchment and ink pots when McGonagall stepped away from her desk.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said, eyes flitting through the classroom and momentarily staying on Allyson. "Anyone caught fooling around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again, while her students gasped and clapped their hands enthusiastically. The second the woman had refreshed the spell with a careless flick of her wrist, Transfigurations became Allyson's most favourite class. It was a pity they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals anytime soon.

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match to turn into a needle. Hermione Granger seemed to be just as studious, if not more, as Allyson and at the end of the lesson Allyson had managed to give it the look of a needle — although it wasn't yet capable to penetrate the skin — and Hermione had managed to make the match silver and pointier. They were treated with a rare smile.

Allyson's second favourite subject was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Quirrell's classroom and Quirrell himself smelled strongly of garlic, and according to the Professor, the garlic was to ward off a Romanian vampire. Allyson wasn't sure if she should believe that. He seemed awfully eccentric but didn't look like he could hurt a fly, much less a dangerous vampire. His turban he got from a Persian Prince, as a gift for rescuing the prince from a troublesome Zombie. Allyson decided the fool had probably accidentally appeared above the Zombie during apparition and so had involuntarily saved the prince. There was simply no way, he had done it on purpose.

The Weasley twins, Fred and George described him as 'a bit weird' one evening when she was sitting in the Gryffindor Common room doing her homework. Fred Weasley described being odd as a requirement to be allowed as a Defence teacher. After all, the spot was jinxed and till now none of the applicants had been able to hold the job for more than a year.

After that Fred and George had left the Common room, disappearing into the corridors. Their cheerful twittering echo sharply off against the high walls and she collapsed into her seat. Hermione Granger peeked over the edge of her book and raised an eyebrow: "Jinxed the spot?"

She shrugged, her shoulders rolling with the motion. "I have no idea. Quirrell is weird enough… Hogwarts' Headmaster is weird enough. Could be possible…"

When Friday came the Gryffindors had their first shared class with the Slytherins. Allyson was dreading that class. Potions class was taught by the Slytherin Head of House Severus Snape, who was a tall and intimidating wizard who, according to Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, favoured the Slytherins. When Allyson woke that morning the grounds were covered by blue dawn and the cold had diffused across the windows. A dark grey blanket of clouds stretched over the castle and rain splashed against the stone walls and clattered off against the windows.

An ominous feeling had settled in the pit of Allyson's stomach and she flipped tiredly through the pages of her Potions book (' _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_ ') during breakfast. Fingering the edge of the page of her book, she settled her potions kit on her lap and poured herself a cup of Earl Grey tea. She wasn't exactly looking forward to Potions class with the hostile Potions Master and the thought of being locked up in a classroom without windows didn't seem very pleasant either.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Allyson." Came the soothing voice of Hermione Granger as she took a seat beside Allyson. Ron looked up from his breakfast and he didn't seem pleased.

"I doubt it," Allyson answered. "Well, as long as we keep ourselves to the theory only, there should be no problem." She muttered as an afterthought, and she glanced sideways at the page about Antidotes to Common Poisons. Apparently, there were a few objects that reversed the effects of common poisons; like a Bezoar, Mistletoe Berries, and Unicorn Horns.

 _'Devine a Common potion…'_

"Allyson?"

She slowly looked up from her book and furrowed her brows at Harry, as he leaned over the table. "Yes, Harry?"

"Did you—" he started, just as the morning mail arrived. He didn't finish his sentence, holding his arm out when a snow-white owl circled the Gryffindor table. Hedwig dropped down in front of him. Till now his familiar had not brought him any letters, although the snow-white animal did sometimes follow the other owls, nibbling at Harry's ears or simply to get himself a bit of toast or a piece of bacon. Without looking up from her book Allyson offered the owl a piece of toast and stared at one of the marked passages.

"Did you even eat something?" Harry asked, unrolling his scroll, as he sent Hedwig off again.

"Hm,"

"No, she didn't." Hermione interrupted and Allyson glared at her.

"I did," she countered.

"A cup of tea does not qualify as breakfast."

"You sound like my mum."

"If you ate like that at home," Hermione started, "then I'm sure you have had this conversation before. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Closing her book with a thud, she picked a sandwich from one of the plates and stuffed it in her mouth. "Happy now?"

"Gross, Allyson," Harry retorted, "but, yes, very!"

Allyson rolled her eyes, chewing on the last bites of her sandwich before pointing her index finger at Harry's letter. "Who's that from?"

"Hagrid," he admitted.

"Right the Hogwarts caretaker who took you away from your aunt and uncle." She nodded, remembering the large man before picking up her schoolbag. When the bell rung, the students got up from their seats and started across the Hall. Though it was not a long distance to cross, the slippery stairs demanded both exertion and caution. The marble staircases rounded a steep drop near the end and the chilly temperature dropped even more.

It was shivering cold, and Allyson immediately regretted not putting on something warmer. The dungeons were dark, the torches on the wall barely gave off enough light and the floor was slippery. The cinderblock walls had a soft sheen of green moss covering them and she twitched her cold, chilly fingers. Sighing, she hitched her schoolbag higher on her shoulder. There was a small ripping sound and suddenly the handle of her bag snapped, sprawling all her books, notes and ink bottles over the flagstone floor.

"Shite," she hissed, glaring at the mess splayed onto the stone floor. She wasn't stupid; she knew she stuffed too many books into her bag, but still—

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered eyes wide, "how did you even fit all of that into your bag?"

"Practice," she muttered, crouching down onto the floor. "Go on ahead, I'll only take a minute."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked slowly and she smiled while gathering her belongings.

"Yes, I'm sure. You were the one who was afraid Snape would look for a reason to get to you. So don't give him a reason."

Both boys nodded and went inside. Allyson tried to ignore the burning stares of her classmates. Some students snickered, stepping over and around her, while others didn't bother looking at her. With an annoyed groan, she stuffed the last book into her bag and pulled her wand out.

"Reparo,"

The handle immediately knitted itself back together. She smiled at her handy work, threw the handle over her shoulder and hastily made her way into the classroom. The dungeon room, in which Potions classes were given in, was creepy with all the dark bare walls and the sheen of green moss covering them. There were pickled animals floating in glass jars and Allyson shivered. The door thudded close louder than she would have liked and Professor Snape, who had been in the middle of taking the roll call, looked up with a surly frown.

Allyson realised with an unpleasant tingle she had interrupted him mid-speech and with a face reddening quickly, she slipped into the room as quietly as possible. Snape's dark eyes flitted through the room, and his lips drew back into a sneer. Allyson reddened even more and inched towards an empty seat.

"Ah, Miss—"

"Allyson Sir. Allyson Gilbert," She answered, stepping further into the room. "I'm sorry Professor, the handle of my bag broke."

Snape lowered his scroll to the desk and his frown deepened. Behind the tall imposing man, she saw Draco Malfoy sniggering, his cronies one seat before him grinning as well. He walked up to the end of the classroom, his robes whipping around him. "Well, Miss Gilbert, you just lost your House ten points." Snape said, his beady black eyes looking down menacingly at her. Allyson bit her lip. "Do take a seat."

She nodded and was about to take a seat next to Neville when the potions master shook his head. "Not there, Miss Gilbert. Why don't you sit down next to Mister Malfoy, that way you won't cause another disruption!"

Scowling she stomped over to where Malfoy was seated. The blond was shaking, the corners of his lips tugged up. Professor Snape strode back to the front of the class and whipped around.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He started. Snape spoke in a whisper, but the students still understood every word — just like Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape could effortlessly keep order. Unlike Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape did not only freeze the students he did also scare a large percentage of the students; mainly the quivering Neville Longbottom.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses— I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Allyson swallowed nervously and picked at a vial of glittering black beetles eyes on her desk. The students had fallen still after Snape's cold introduction and Allyson carefully got her textbook and parchment out. Malfoy wasn't looking at her, setting up his cauldron and while opening his textbook.  
The Potions master's gaze flitted through the classroom. His gaze lingered on Harry and Ron, seated in the third row from the front. She noticed his lips curl back in a smile and he stopped in front of the two boys. "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Allyson fingered her textbook nervously. 'Asphodel' and an infusion of 'Wormwood' were both ingredients for a sleeping draught. She had read all about it and she shifted in her seat. Harry, on the other hand, hadn't read up on the theory. His eyebrows were furrowed together and he peered up at his teacher with a confused look on his face. Hermione's hand shot up. She knew it wasn't surprising.

Harry looked Allyson's way now. Rubbing her eyes roughly, she mouthed the word 'sleep' to him.

"Uhm, they induce sleep…" Harry muttered, his answer barely audible and Allyson nodded in agreement.

Snape looked almost stunned and his eyes widened. Hermione Granger turned around in her seat, surprise evident on her face. And then the suspicion took over. Her gaze slowly flitting towards Allyson. Snape seemed to make the same connection since he turned slightly to give her a death glare.

"Very well, _Mister_ Potter," he started, eying Allyson with a sneer. "In some way they do, also known as the Draught of Living Death." He explained. "Well, Mister Potter, another one. Where do you think, should I look as to find a bezoar?" He asked, his tone quipped before he turned back to Harry.

Allyson didn't know what kind of 'bezoar' he meant, although she supposed he meant the one against 'common potions'. But where to find one, she wasn't sure. She knew from her mother, who was had worked as a Pharmacist, that bezoars in general, could be found in one's stomach. There were various animals who 'formed' them, but Allyson supposed Snape meant a magical creature and therefore she had no idea.

"Nothing to say, Miss Potter?" Malfoy whispered from beside her and she glared at him.

"Just shut up." She hissed.

Ignoring the silently laughing blond boy next to her, she peered at Harry again and pointed at her abdomen. His eyes flitted at her and she mouthed the word 'stomach' to him. His eyebrows furrowed even more and Allyson repeated the gesture; hoping against hope, he would understand what she meant. Snape must have noticed her and turned around.

"Miss Gilbert," he started threateningly but Harry made a low sound from the back of his throat and the Potions professor turned to him with a fierce scowl.

"I don't know, Sir." He said.

The edges of Snape's mouth lifted up, showing his yellowed teeth. "Well, well, you didn't deem it important to look at the information in your book, Mister Potter? Well, let's try it again, shall we?" Snape continued "What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Allyson pursed her lips. According to ' _Magical Drafts and Potions'_ and ' _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'_ Monkswood and Wolfsbane were the exact same thing. It was also known as aconite. Harry, on the other hand, didn't and glared angrily at Snape. His eyes flitted to Allyson again and she mouthed 'the same,' before hiding her face behind her textbook. From the first row, Hermione Granger shook her head disapprovingly, her hand still up in the air, yet Snape ignored her.

"I wouldn't know Sir," Harry stated, crossing his arms over his chest, "but I think Hermione knows, so why don't you ask her?"

Several students laughed, but one look of Severus Snape silenced them immediately. He glared Hermione, beckoning for her to lower her hand and stepped closer to Harry's table with a feral glint in his eyes. "For your information, Potter, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most potions. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

There was a small moment of silence, as most students stared blankly at their Potions Professor. "Well, why aren't you writing this down?" the man snapped, his last words becoming clipped and obnoxious.

His words were almost immediately followed by a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Allyson followed their example and scribbled the information down in a dark-leather notebook. She harshly put a line under the word; 'bezoar' and shifted in her seat. Snape had returned to the front of the class and he peered through the classroom with a cold look, remaining on Harry's form. "Gryffindor gets one point deducted, because of your big mouth, Potter!"

For the remainder of the class, Snape paired the students up in couples. They were to work on a _simple_ potion to cure boils and while the students copied the instruction off of the blackboard, Snape swept around the dungeons in his long black cloak like an avenging angel of death. He watching the students weight dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticising almost all, but left Allyson alone, since she was working with Malfoy. Apparently, Snape liked Malfoy.

They had efficiently divided their duties. Allyson chopped the horned slugs into bits, while Malfoy stirred and added the ingredients to the potion, which was bubbling happily above the fire. Occasionally Malfoy's elbow collided with hers and at first Allyson thought he might do it on purpose, however, when she glanced over she realised he was left-handed. Although her arm might have started to turn blue, she had to admit, he had a feeling for potions.

As he dropped the horned slugs in the cauldron Professor Snape passed by. He called on the class, to observe the perfect way that Malfoy had stewed their horned slugs. Just as the students were standing up to come over, green clouds of acrid smoke and a loud hissing sounds filled the dungeon.

Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron, who had partnered up with him, into a twisted blob, and the potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. In a matter of seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools. Neville, who had been drenched in the hot potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned from the pain. On his arms and legs, angry red boils appeared.

"You Idiot!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilt potion away with one wave of his wand. "I take it, you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered softly, more boils started to pop up all over his skin.

"Take him up to the hospital wing!" Snape spat to Seamus before he turned to Harry and Ron. "You there — Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? You thought such an obvious mistake would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That'll cost Gryffindor House another point deduction." Snape all but hissed.

Several Gryffindors grumbled under their breath and Allyson frowned. The man might have been a very capable potions master, but he didn't seem very suited for teaching. His blatant favouring of the Slytherins and the way he provoked Harry seemed totally uncalled for. When they finally left the cold dungeon classroom, the Gryffindors trooped quickly back upstairs. Harry's face was red, green eyes flashing and Allyson awkwardly patted his shoulder.

"Come on, man. Snape deducts points from Fred and George too. It's practically tradition." Ron explained. "Now that I think of it, can I come along to Hagrid?"

Harry nodded, "Sure, why not."

"Give him my best!" Allyson said, pulling her scheduler from her bag. The term had barely started and the first-years were already drowning in their homework. She was mostly relieved she wasn't as far behind on everyone else, yet, the weekend only consisted out of two days and she had four essays to write. "I'll see you tonight during dinner, I suppose. I think I'm going to see how far I can get with my homework."

Both boys gave her a blank stare. Ron shook his head. "There is a life outside of school! You do realise that, don't you?" He asked.

"Of course I do, but I'm afraid my parents don't. Thereby, I'm hoping to finish my homework early, so I can actually enjoy the rest of the weekend." She answered, hoisting her bag up.

"All right, see you at dinner." Harry mumbled, giving a longing glance at the green grounds outside.

"Okay," Allyson yelled before turning around and made her way up the winding staircases towards the library. As she stepped out onto the third-floor corridor, she wasn't surprised to see it practically deserted. Allyson supposed that was because of the _forbidden_ _corridor_ , which ensured certain horrible death if one came too close to it. Allyson rolled her eyes. They should have tried that particular sentence when trying to keep Muggle High school children away from the supermarket during classes. Although, that might not have helped either way.

Stretching her arms above her head she skipped through the hallway. The corridors were damp from humidity and Allyson heard the rain pelt off the large windows. The library was equally deserted and the sound of the rain thudding against the walls and windows echoed even more audible off against the high ceilings in the of parchment smelling room. Ten of thousands of books on thousands of shelves. Allyson really loved the library. She had always liked books and used to visit the public library back home often. Even though that library was a lot smaller than the Hogwarts library, she'd had never been disappointed with its contents.

She smiled again and navigated herself to the right section at the back. As she traced her finger over their spines, she easily located the book she was looking for: 'Defensive Magical Theory - by Wilbert Slinkhard'.

Waving at Madam Pince, who appeared to be getting used to her, Allyson sat down at one of the tables located by a window. Rummaging through her bag she got out quill and parchment. An hour later she was deeply engrossed in her book, scribbling down answers and spells. She was half aware of a chair being pulled back at her table, but wasn't too concerned about it. The next moment a book bag was unceremoniously thrown on her table. Looking up, she stared right in the face of Draco Malfoy.

"You're sitting at my table!" he retorted.

Allyson blinked. Allyson stared. Allyson gaped. "Come again?"

He ran his hand through his hair, sat down and sassily replied: "This is the table I use for studying and now you're… occupying it." He became silent for a moment. "And to add to that, you're in the way." He drawled.

"Erm, Malfoy, no offence, but just because you _use_ this table so now and then, doesn't make it yours. And really, I wouldn't mind if you wish to use it too, but if I offend you then I suggest you find yourself a different table to sit." She said, pulling her book out from under his bag and continued reading.

"Doesn't make it mine? With the donation _my_ _Father_ makes, it could as well be." He snapped back.

She scrunched her eyebrows. What was wrong with this boy? "I didn't know one could buy himself a place in the library. Moreover, I think it would show some character if you'd be able to share _once_ in a while." She huffed. The ' _spoiled rich kid_ ' part left hanging in the air.

"Are you implying, I can't share?" He said, dangerously low.

She gave him a blank look and rolled her eyes. "Whatever else did you think I was implying?"

He snorted and sat down with a thud. "I can share, thank you very much!" He declared, muttering profanities under his breath.

Allyson stared at him for a moment before shrugging, cradling her face into her hand, and returned to her reading. Apparently, when Malfoy wasn't surrounded by the large boys or any other member of his Slytherin posse for that matter, he was somewhat civil. Alyson tilted her head in confusion as she watched him write and twirled her own quill and rolled it between her fingers.

As the sun sank lower, toppling off the horizon, the light drained away from the sky and twilight settled over the ground. Allyson had just finished her Transfiguration homework and she closed her book with a soft thud, peering at her calendar. She frowned when she noticed hurried footsteps coming closer. Sucking her cheeks between her molars, she curiously glanced towards the library door.

"What if she isn't there anymore, Harry? It is time for dinner, she might as well have left to eat." Ron's voice reached her ears. Allyson softly let out a sigh and tapped her quill inaudible against her ink bottle.

"Then we'll go to the Great hall after we make sure she isn't still studying." A slightly annoyed Harry answered.

With furrowed eyebrows, she packed her books, parchment and ink away and left Malfoy to his own devices with a small nod in his direction. It wouldn't do to have him exchange insults with Harry and Ron _again_. Thereby, she wanted to stay welcome in the library and having three boys screaming to each other probably wasn't going to work in her favour. Allyson glanced at the strict Liberian. The woman's lips were drawn back in a tight line and she glared at the door of her library. Yes, screaming would definitely turn things for the worst. The underfed vulture had threatened students for less with complete banishment till sixth year and Allyson quickened her pace, leaving the table near the window and away from Malfoy. As she rounded a tall bookcase, her friends almost ran into her.

"Ah, Ally," Harry stated, skidding to a halt in front of her "we were looking for you!"

"I know; I heard you coming." She answered swiftly, pursing her lips. Hell, probably everyone in the library heard them coming. "We might "

"Is there something wrong?" Allyson asked, noticing their sullen faces. Ron glanced around the library impassively while Harry seemed to be too excited to even care where he was.

"There was a break-in at Gringotts. That's the bank ran by Goblins." Ron explained and when Allyson nodded in understanding he went on. "Anyway, the break-in was on Harry's birthday."

Allyson nodded again, leading them out into the cool corridors away from the library. "I know, it was in the paper this morning, but I thought they had no leads? No one was arrested nor were there any leads to the culprit. Why is that important, I thought nothing was taken?"

Harry grabbed both her and Ron by their upper arms and dragged them into an empty classroom, after which he closed the door. A window stood ajar, ruffling the stack of foxed parchment on the teachers' desk. The walls were light with dark stains where they angled into the ceiling and candles provided light in the claustrophobic silence.

Allyson couldn't handle the suspense anymore. "What's going on?"

"When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, we visited Gringotts." Harry explained, his eyes flitting through the room. "He emptied vault seven hundred thirteen the same day as that break-in. Nothing special, if you ask me. A small grubby little package." Harry said. "But it was really weird. I know there's something going on and Hagrid knows something, but he isn't talking."

"I still don't understand…"

"Don't you think it's weird the bank was robbed on the same day Hagrid and I retrieve a package out of vault seven hundred thirteen?"

"I'm not sure?"

"What do you reckon, was in the package?" Ron asked eyes lighting up at the idea of a conspiracy.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, but whatever it was, it's probably now somewhere at school."

"Why do you think that? Hagrid might as well have hidden it somewhere on the grounds. From what I understood, he knows this place better than anyone." Allyson said, taking a seat at one of the desks lining the wall.

"Because Hagrid had to get the package for Professor Dumbledore." Harry explained. "If Dumbledore wants it, don't you think it is quite important?"

"And important things are not kept on the grounds." Allyson finished for him. "I suppose you have a point."

Allyson crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her head against the wall behind her. 'A small grubby little package' could be taken anywhere. Allyson supposed the teachers didn't stay 24/7 at school, but why not bring the item here, where Dumbledore could watch over it. Not to mention what was small and worth to rob a bank for? The silence in the classroom fell heavy on her skin. Her fingers were getting numb from the autumnal air that crept through the open window. The soft drizzling of the rain was clearly audible in the silence which had settled over the three friends.

"So—" Allyson started, not sure what she should say.

"Recon we should try and find out what it is?" Ron asked. Allyson frowned.

"I think so," Harry began. "If they hide it somewhere in this school, the people searching for it, might try and come here!"

"I do think if it is well protected, when it is at school," Allyson started thoughtfully. "don't you think we are putting extra attention on it if we are to search for it?"

"I don't know," Harry murmured.

"I think Harry's right." Ron said and Allyson understood his excitement. Ron had grown up in the Wizarding world and was told his whole life the Goblin-run bank was impregnable and now someone broke through the heavy security without being caught.

"I suppose we could keep our eyes open." She admitted. "I mean we can be subtle, can't we?"

Ron flushed and Harry grinned sheepishly before nodding.

Allyson glanced outside. Small pellets of water splattered against the window and dripped towards the ground, several feet below, making strange twisting lines. The water of the black lake rippled with the drizzle and the strong wind pulled and pushing at the blades of grass and the leaves. The trees in the north swung softly and Allyson remembered the strange hooded figure stalking over the grounds on those early hours a few days ago.

Unknown as to why, she shivered—

 _To be continued..._

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 **A/N: I always remember how absolutely Harry hated his fame in the books. Allyson hates being in the attention of others. Although, you'll only get small pieces of her past, it will become apparent as the story progresses. Please understand, in many ways Allyson was quite a pampered little girl, but, and I stress the but, she was quite aware of her magic and this is a girl who will drop up to be a strong and crafty witch. For that I have my reasons, other than disliking my OC's to be Mary Sue characters (although, the first version of this did imply she was a Mary Sue characters), but I won't spell them out (or I'll try). Everyone is free to guess of course— And I like to think her background (which Allyson is not aware of either) will be good^^**

 **Right now, Allyson is eleven-years-old. For now, the most important things in her world are school (pleasing her father), her new friends (she'd never had friends before) and fitting in a new world. I'll try to put it all into this story:)**

 **Please leave a review. I'd love to know whatever everyone thinks and it helps me improve too because that way I understand if something was understandable and interesting.**

 **Leave a review^^**


	7. Chapter 6, Flying lessons

**A/N: And here is chapter six. Please let me know what you think! Thank you, guest-reviewer for your comment, I'm glad you like it and for everyone who started following the story, welcome! Enjoy the sixth chapter!**

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o.O.o

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 _ **Chapter Six, Flying lessons**_

 **T** he first part of the term passed by more busily than any time of Allyson's life so far. Hogwarts was nothing like Allyson had ever imagined. Everything was so magnificent and she loved the old castle, the vastly developing classes, and the large grounds surrounding it. She had always been smart, and as the first weeks passed, she realised she took to magic easily. Though, her peers had never liked her overbearing attitude and therefore in class, Allyson kept quiet, trying not to draw attention to herself — like Hermione Granger did — and wrote purposefully the exact required lengths in her essays. She found an unlikely enjoyment in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Although Professor Quirrell was the strangest teacher — human being by Allyson's standards — she had ever met, his subject was interesting. She enjoyed transfigurations as well, and from the third week onwards, Allyson was ready for more. Professor McGonagall seemed to notice her enthusiasm and curiously asked her to perform more difficult spells. Allyson thought it was quite marvellous her Head of House seemed so pleased with her progression.

Muggle school had been devastatingly boring, never mind all the bullying and unchallenging subjects. Teachers weren't very impressed with her and she wasn't very impressed with the teachers. No, Allyson hated Muggle school. So much actually that her parents had left the country — they had been living in Germany until she was eight — and moved to Great Britain. Of course, her hating Muggle school wasn't the sole reason, but she supposed it had played an important part in her parents' decision making.  
Hogwarts was more challenging than Muggle school had ever been. Of course, the weeks passed in a blur of not only magic, but also reading books, writing essays and exploring the castle with Harry and Ron.

Harry was lovely. He was the best friend she'd never had before and Ron was like a brother (she'd never wanted a brother before though). He pushed her buttons and got on her nerves, yet he could also be incredibly sweet and she liked their challenging friendship. Then there was Hermione Granger. Allyson occasionally did her homework together with Hermione and, although Hermione saw Allyson as some kind of rival on many fronts, she liked her well enough.

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, weren't so fond of the older girl. Especially Ron was very vocal about his hostility to the girl, calling her names and making faces behind her back. Allyson thought it to be very tiring. At least Harry kept his (vocal) opinion mostly to himself. He didn't bother her and she supposed they were simply too busy with being intrigued by the news of the break-in at Gringotts. They had tried nosing around, trying to find out about the mysterious object from vault seven hundred and thirteen, but so far no luck.

It was hard researching an object when you didn't know what you were looking for. Difficult interrogating ghosts, like Professor Binns in History of magic — who launched in a long and dreadful lecture about dangerous objects and how spelled objects had been used during the Goblin wars — or Nearly Headless Nick — who asked if they didn't just mean diamonds —, but it was even more difficult to ask one of the teachers like Professor McGonagall, who had given them such a strict look they'd returned to their seats red-faced and without a logical answer. Allyson suspected that if ' _it'_ was in school, it might have been hidden in the forbidden corridor on the third floor, but she had no desire of going looking for it. The two teenage boys did not see it that way, but at least did not try to get into the forbidden corridor _yet_.

"And if we ask Hagrid again?" Ron asked one day as the three Gryffindors crossed the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall.

"If you think that would help, why not…" Allyson retorted, peering over the edge of her book. She noticed Draco Malfoy coming up the stairs from the dungeons and tried to hurry the boys along. His eyes met hers and his lips curled back into an unpleasant smirk.

"Hey, Gilbert, who of those two are you actually dating?" Malfoy's voice echoed through the high corridor.

Harry and Ron bristled, but Allyson really wasn't faced. Muggle school had been much worse. The other children used to terrorise her. Allyson shook her head, punching Harry softly against his shoulder. "No one cares, come on. I actually want a decent breakfast for a change."

Harry and Ron, but mostly Harry, had been the target of Malfoy's constant teasing. The blond boy took an uncanny pleasure in harassing Allyson's two friends — 'Potthead and Weaselbee', as Malfoy liked to call them — and called them names or tried to push their buttons every time the Slytherins and Gryffindors collided. Malfoy was childish and she suspected he was hurt from Harry brushing him off at the Hogwarts express. Therefore, Allyson didn't think she was the intended target — Muggle-born or not — but was only collateral damage. He did sometimes try to get a reaction out of her, but Allyson didn't care what he'd said. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, were bothered. Harry even went as far as claiming that the _'git_ ' was vastly moving up his list of hated people.

'Who had a list of hated people?' Allyson silently wondered as she followed Harry and Ron into the Great Hall.

Till now the first-year Gryffindors only shared Potions with the Slytherins, which meant they didn't have to put up with Malfoy's contemptuous treatment often. Or at least, they didn't have to until they saw the notice pinned to the bulletin board. Their upcoming flying lessons would be another class they shared with the hostile Slytherins and it was the subject of their conversations that morning. As they neared their House Table their discussion about Malfoy was almost immediately tuned out in favour of the joys of flying. Malfoy stalked to the Slytherin table and Allyson followed Harry and Ron to three empty seats. She flipped through her book covering the basics about flying, mindlessly allowing Harry to lead her by the elbow and absently noted how her skirt swished by her legs, crumpled from last day's studying. Her skull felt tender from the messy knot atop her head and her eyes reverently flitting over the text. The concept of flying wasn't all that difficult. The idea of going twenty feet or higher up in the air was an unwelcome one.

The approach of the _flying_ class was heavily anticipated by the students. All of them told the most exaggerated tales of past flying achievements. Ron told everyone who would listen, and even those who really didn't want to, how he hit a hanglider with Charlie's old broom. If you had to believe Finnigan, he practically lived on a broom during his childhood. And Neville, well Neville wondered if his Gran would kill him if he came near one, or if the broom would do the job.

Even Draco Malfoy had forgotten their self-proclaimed 'enemy-ship' in favour of telling her everything about flying — during Potions (ignoring Snape's exasperated looks) and in terms, even Allyson understood about the differences between the thousand-and-one brands that were on the market and how to best mound one. She hadn't liked the second part of his story how one couldn't really prepare for flying by reading a book, but could only prepare by practising it. That hadn't stopped her and Harry to read ' _Quidditch Through The Ages_ ' a bunch of times, trying to find as many facts to latch onto as they could.

Allyson slowly poured herself a cup of strong Earl Grey and breathed softly into her cup. The sun was filtering gently through the high windows, creating halos on the wall and illuminated the little dust specks swirling into the air. She ignored the heavy feeling of dread when she buttered a piece of toast, served herself some scrambled eggs and placed her book down on the old table. An excited murmur was buzzing around them and Allyson clamped her hands around her teacup.

"—So then you kick off— that's the most amazing feeling you know? And you are airborne." Ron explained, shovelling another fork of smashed potatoes away. "You know?" he asked, with a mouthful of potatoes and eggs, "there is something quite unreal about flying—"

Allyson sighed again. She definitely didn't care if there was. Picking at her scrambled eggs she gave it a disdainful look. She ignored the rest of his speech and chugged down her tea. It was lukewarm and she took a bite of her toast before pushing her plate away. Flying lessons would be given outside on the Quidditch pitch later that afternoon.

"—that bad, Harry, Madam Hooch will be there."

Allyson snorted. Madam Hooch wouldn't catch her if she fell from her broom and broke her neck. No, the goal of the day was staying alive. And, when she was at it, not fall, while being 'airborne', and break several bones she would need later on in life.

"Ally, want to check out some more books, before flying lessons?" Hermione Granger asked, jolting her out of her reverie.

"Yes, thank you." She nodded, dumping her leftovers on Ron's plate before smiling at the older girl.

As she collected her bag and her cape, she placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, who was gloomily flipping through his own copy of _Quidditch through the ages_. Even though Harry was anticipating this class, she knew he was nervous trying to do something he'd never done before.

"We're going to check out some more books, want to come?" Harry looked up, obviously torn.

"She isn't so bad," Allyson whispered barely audible. "She means really well and she deserves a fair chance, don't you think?"

In truth, Allyson liked Hermione Granger. She might be a teachers' pet, a show-off and needed to be the best, she was also witty, funny and a source of knowledge. Allyson might have been better at spells, it was Hermione who found the useful bits of information in the library.

Ron raised an eyebrow and Harry sheepishly shrugged. "I'll come and find you when I've finished my breakfast, all right?"

"Sure,"

Allyson slung her bag over her shoulder just as the post came. Thousands and thousands of owls flew into the great hall, flapping their wings and stirring the still air around them. She wasn't expecting any mail; her parents sent her letters and some necessaries once a week. And they only did that after Allyson sent them an update on her school life — after all, they didn't own an owl.

"Don't choke, Ron." She joked, waving at Ron, who was still too busy scarfing his meal down to notice and then she walked up to where Hermione was waiting.

"Is he coming?" the other girl asked. Allyson shook her head while turning to the Gryffindor table.

"Maybe later," Allyson answered. "He might want to stare at that particular book for the rest of the day, though." She explained, her eyes flitting to her unruly-haired friend. Hands waving above his head, he explained something to Ron. As the red-head nodded, Harry started to pack his things.

"Or perhaps he won't." Allyson murmured.

Hermione shrugged, shifting her bag on her shoulder and leant against the wall. "Neville's got some mail too."

Neville Longbottom was holding a glass ball of some kind. It seemed to be filling with smoke as he held it above his head. Whatever it was it got the Gryffindor table in a bit of a hub-bub. It was that exact moment, Allyson spotted a dot of blond, closing in.

Hermione sighed: "There they go again."

Draco Malfoy, his usual bodyguards trailing after him, stopped at the Gryffindor table. His eyes menacing and a sneer firmly in place. He snatched the glass ball out of Neville's hand and seemingly examined it. Harry — who had been half in the progress of leaving — and Ron jumped to their feet and stepped closer to the blond.

"Do you think we should interfere?" Allyson asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she told Allyson firmly, "and I don't want to be here either when Professor McGonagall interferes."

"What is it he got anyway?" Allyson asked.

"A rememberall." Hermione explained as McGonagall dropped a hand on either boys' shoulder. "They glow red when you've forgotten something."

"—Malfoy's got my Rememberall, Professor!" Neville's shrill voice resonated through the high Great Hall. Professor McGonagall glared at Malfoy's reddening face and Hermione looped her arm through hers.

"Let's go, Professor McGonagall is taking care of them."

Allyson nodded, hitched her schoolbag up and followed the bushy-haired girl out of the Great Hall. They crossed the Entrance Hall to the stairwells leading to the upper floors. The cool air that dominated the spacious corridors felt pleasantly against her flushed skin and she sighed. Hermione quickened her pace when the clock struck nine and they had to hurry to their first class of the day.

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

At three-thirty that afternoon, the first-years hurried through the corridors, out onto the open courtyard. The students had been brimming with feverish excitement, their laughter overloud and overwhelming. Allyson silently followed after the other Gryffindors, crossing the school grounds to the Quidditch pitch. She shivered slightly, cuddling in the wool of her Gryffindor sweater, pushing her hands into the pockets of her skirt. There had been an autumnal change in weather, a myriad of colourful leaves hanging off the trees and rain almost constantly beating against the castle. Yet, today, a watery sun was gently peeking out behind a greyish cloud, standing high in the sky and watery rays were falling down onto the ground, small water droplets shining invitingly at passing students. The grass was still moist from the previous rain and her feet grew damp from their walk. It wasn't cold, the sky bright and clear, and, apparently, great for flying.

"I wish we could try out." Ron Weasley said as he stepped onto the Quidditch pitch. Just like all the other children who were born in magic, he had been flying since before he could remember.

Harry shrugged. Allyson eyed the twenty-one broomsticks, which were neatly placed in two neat lines on the ground. To Allyson, they looked as if they were waiting for their first victim.

The brooms looked nothing like the ones she'd seen in the shop window at Diagon Alley. They were old, battered with bristles that stuck out at odd angles. Allyson felt slightly dizzy and Hermione Granger rubbed her hands together nervously.

Since she was small, Allyson had had a fear of heights. Although a rational fear, it was annoying. Ever since she fell out of a tree, years ago, she felt very strongly about heights. She didn't like going upwards in an elevator in high buildings. She didn't like looking out of the small windows of planes and she felt nervous now, as she eyed the broomsticks. A distinct chill of fear ran up her spine and she bit down onto her lower lip hard.

The Slytherins came marching down the sloping lawns, sneers firmly in place. Although not afraid, their expressions mostly mirrored those of the Gryffindors when they noticed the brooms as well. Allyson exhaled loudly, averting her eyes and glancing up at the large stadiums, over the tall copse with trees of the Forbidden Forest, swaying ominously and back at her friends.

"Perhaps if we go now, she won't notice our absence," Harry stressed almost inaudible and Allyson sniggered despite the current excitement lacing her bloodstream.

"I think you are too late." She told him when a tall woman with short grey hair and yellow eyes stepped onto the pitch.

Madam Hooch was a woman of few words. She stared at the students' faces and suddenly blew her whistle. "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, stand beside a broom. If you're right-handed, stand on the left, otherwise, you'll switch. Come on, hurry up!"

Allyson paddled, with obvious reluctance, over to one of the broomsticks. Standing next to Harry, who was practically glowering at his, she stared at the piece of stick. It wasn't the worst of the lot, the twigs at the end stuck out at odd angles and the dark wood was slightly damaged, but it was certainly not the best either.

"Hold your wand hand over your broom—" Madam Hooch called "—and say: ' _Up_ '!"

Allyson gave a small sign: "Up."

Nothing happened. It didn't even move. Looking around, she saw that Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. Ron had some more trouble, as his broom did fly up at the word 'up', but instead of falling into his waiting hand it whacked him straight in the nose. Draco Malfoy standing across from him, barked out a laugh, his broom resting nicely in his hand.

Hermione Granger was having trouble as well. It was a strange side seeing her struggle with something instead of being naturally good at it. Despite the several intonations she used with the word up, she had trouble making her broom cooperate.

Allyson glanced at her own broom again. Perhaps it noticed, no matter how weird that sounded, when someone actually wanted to fly and when not. It would explain the reluctance to cooperate with her. She tried again: "Up." The broom moved, but that was all movement one could see.

"Well, I tried." She muttered.

"You're going to be fine." Harry began, "You'll just say: 'up', loud and clear, and it will obey you!"

At that Ron glowered at Harry's back. Muttering something under his breath he held his hand over his broom again and Hermione peered at her own nervously where it quivered on the ground.

"Well?" Harry asked glancing at Allyson's unmoving broom expectantly.

"Fine, I give it another shot." She said with a heavy sigh. Honestly, she couldn't care less if she couldn't get this thing to cooperate or not. If they'd ask for her opinion, she'd tell everyone in earshot, she wished to keep her feet firmly planted on the solid ground.

Exhaling loudly, she shook her head. ' _Fine, for the greater good._ '

"Up!"

The broom shuddered but indeed came up into her hand. Feeling slightly pleased, she turned to Harry, beaming at him. Ron was also holding his broom, but Hermione wasn't. She scowled, bent down and pulled the broom up, which earned her a death glare from Madam Hooch.

The hard-faced instructor started to explain more ground rules for flying, listing off breathing exercises, where to place your hands and holding one's balance. With a careless wave of her hand, she explained the first-years how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and started up and down the rows to correct their grips. She stopped behind Allyson, index fingers gently tapping on her knuckles and told her she'd been gripping the broom too hard (what did she expect). Hooch glanced at Malfoy, and Harry and Ron looked as if Christmas came early that year when she told him he had been holding his broom wrong for years.

When everyone was holding their broom to satisfaction, she went on with her lecture: "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward."

Allyson carefully threw her leg over the broom. She grimaced when it raised her off the ground a bit and experimentally shifted her weight a bit.

"On my whistle," the woman exclaimed and Allyson swallowed tightly.

"— three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy, seemed to be horrified of being left alone on the ground and pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch's lips. He rose straight up and yelped.

"Come back, boy!" Hooch shouted, but Neville was rising straight up; like a cork shot out of a champagne bottle. Allyson shuddered as she watched the plump boy ascend up in the air. Twelve meters — twenty meters! Neville's face had gotten a ghostly white.

The students moved along with the boy, their faces a mix of glee and worry. Neville gasped when he looked down at the ground which was rapidly fading away. The crowd simultaneously gulped when the boy in the air lost his grip and slipped sideways off the broom—

He came falling down. His body plummeted towards the ground, his arms flailing around him and his robes billowed around him as if he was a baby bird learning to fly. Neville's face was one of shock and horror— Someone stumbled into her.

Neville's face was no longer visible as part of his robe hid it from view.

"Allyson!"

It took several seconds for Allyson to register that Neville was plummeting down right towards where she was standing. Her mouth slacked open, but she stood as rooted to the spot. When her brain finally registered the immediate danger, she could no longer avoid it. So she did the only sensible thing; she protected her head with her arms. He slammed into her with a nasty thud and she fell against the forest-floor hard. Pain flashed through her and then darkness engulfed her.

 _'I really hate heights!'_

When the buzzing in her head decreased, Allyson noticed she was laying on the ground. Her head ached and her limbs felt heavy. Somewhere far away she heard murmurs, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She tried to open her eyes but was only met with darkness. Had she gone blind?

Panicking slightly she tried in to inhale deeply, only to find out— that she couldn't— She couldn't breathe… Why couldn't she breathe? As she desperately tried to fill her lungs, she became aware of something heavy leaning on her midsection. The murmurs grew louder and she felt the weight being removed. Someone pulled her on her side.

Allyson took in a shuddering breath. The surge of panic overridden by the basic need of drawing in oxygen and tried to open her eyes again. Her eyelids were too heavy, but her awareness did return to her. She became acutely aware of a sharp ache at the back of her head. She gave up on opening her eyes and groaned softly when someone curled an arm under her knees and looped another around her shoulders, lifting her up from the ground.

"No hovering," Madam Hooch snapped sharply. "You'll do as I say. No Mister Potter, you stay here. You are not getting a free card out of class. Why are you still here, get her to Madam Pomfrey and then come back here!"

"Yes…"

With a swift stride the boy — must be a boy, certainly wasn't Harry though — started his way towards the castle. Her head lolled to the side with the swaying of his shoulders and she winced when he jostled her. Something warm and sticky ran down the side of her face and she took large shallow breaths.

"Please, breathe normally. If you die on me, it's me who's going to be in trouble."

"—I hate flying," she croaked softly.

"Just my luck, having you practically shoved under my nose. Bloody Longbottom!" the boy grumbled under his breath while adjusting her more comfortable against his shoulder. She appreciated the effort, the new position far more comfortable for her.

"He slammed into me?"

"Yes," he said, momentarily silent, "I'm not sure if you should speak."

"—Hm."

His footsteps were loud and swift. The whole situation was laughable. What was the chance that instead of breaking something by actually falling from a broom, someone fell straight into her? She had the sudden disturbing image of blood splattering on the old flagstone floor, leaving a trail for anyone to follow. She was almost glad that she was feeling so foggy, the urge to laugh hysterically not fully registering.

Voices started to reach up.

"What happened to them?"

"Aren't those first years?"

"I believe they had flying lessons today!"

"Went well, that's for sure!"

"Perhaps you want to take a picture, that'll last longer!" the boy snapped.

The air around them changed suddenly. A warm gust of air slapped her in her face and the strong smell of antiseptics assaulted her nostrils. Their — his — footsteps sounded hollow into the room and Allyson felt the slight dizziness lessening. Allyson stirred, trying to make her rebelling limbs to cooperate, just as the boy placed her almost gently on a bed.

"What in the world happened?" That was a new voice.

"A Quidditch accident. Someone flew right into her."

Well, that truly was the short version of events. And they weren't even playing Quidditch. She heard a soft swish and little by little the pain started to ebb away.

"Of course it is. Bloody sport." The woman whispered. "You may go now. Best to return to your class immediately."

"Right, of course."

Allyson shifted on the bed, rubbing her fingers along the silken mattress and cracked her eyes open. Her vision was hazy, but at least it was there. From her peripheral vision, she noticed a small woman with blue eyes and greying hair crouched over a desk to her right. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and she seemed worried about Allyson's wellbeing. Madam Pomfrey, Allyson deducted, the school matron.

"Are you feeling better, Love?"

Allyson blinked slowly. She was in a bed with white sheets, a white pillow and a white curtain standing to her side. She turned her head slowly, but she was far too late. The boy was long gone. She pushed herself up to a sitting position — whatever the school matron had done, it had worked, her head felt a lot better — and fisted the white duvet under her fingers.

"Stay still, child. You have a serious head injury, perhaps a concussion. You'll have to _lay_ still." Madam Pomfrey explained and hurried over and pushed her back down.

Allyson didn't want to be in the Hospital wing. She didn't like being sick, didn't like to be around sick people either. If she was honest, she just wanted to succumb to the call of sleep and wake up in about a week. But she couldn't. She thought she'd read somewhere you shouldn't let someone with a concussion sleep.

Eyes trained on the nurse's back, Allyson watched the woman cross the rectangular room and looked through the shelves of a large oaken cabinet, picking up a phial from the top shelf. As the older woman busied herself at a long white desk, Allyson slowly combed her fingers through her hair. It was tangled with dried blood and when she brought her hand back for inspection she found it covered in dark red liquid. No wonder, she was so light-headed.

Allyson closed her eyes. She was so very tired. She pressed her cheek to the cool, soft pillows, dragging the comforter over her slightly quivering body and closed her eyes.

"Here, drink this, it should do the trick." The School-matron came back, holding a phial with a dark liquid out of her. Allyson eyed it with distaste.

"Beggars can't be choosers." The woman said, grinning at her own joke.

With trembling hands, she took the phial and gulped the liquid down. It was disgusting and she almost choked on it. Yet, the remaining pain dimmed almost instantly. At that same moment, Madam Hooch came in, holding a crying Neville who was clutching his wrist tightly.

"Another one?"

Madam Hooch shrugged and Neville started to sob hysterically when his eyes met Allyson's. Big fat tears rolled over his cheeks and his shoulders shuddered, heaved, with every sharp breath. His nose was running when he stuttered out an apology and Allyson propped herself up on her elbows, ignoring the annoyed look Madam Pomfrey gave her and the sharp sting of pain that shot through her head.

"It's all right Neville, really, accidents happen." She said as soothingly as she could.

Madam Hooch ushered the boy to a bed, and he sat down on it, still sobbing, although it was slowing down.

"Only a broken wrist," Madam Pomfrey began, flicking her wand in a series of difficult motions, "I can mend bones in a second." She pulled out her wand and gave it a small swish. There was a snapping sound — like she broke the bone all over again — and then the odd angle of his wrist smoothed out until it seemed as good as new.

Neville blinked owlishly at his wrist and the Medi-witch smiled. "Can you move it?"

He peered up at her with huge worried eyes and slowly, ever so slowly rotated his wrist and curled and uncurled his fingers. It seemed to be doing fine. He exhaled loudly, dried tears streaks standing out sharply against his flushed face. "It feels fine!"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Good," She brought herself up to her full height and turned to Madam Hooch, "I'll look after the both of them. Mister Longbottom is fine."

"The girl?"

"Will be fine, she only has a minor concussion by now. If she rests, she will be able to return to her dorm shortly after."

Allyson gaped. She didn't even have to stay the night? That was a pleasant surprise. She'd expected to have to stay in a dark room, being shaken awake every hour. And quite possibly another few rounds of disgusting potions.

Smiling she settled comfortably into her pillows and closed her eyes. She slept deeply and dreamlessly for several hours, groggily waking up once or twice to the sound of footsteps passing by, but she was so tired everything around her barely registered before wrapping herself back up in profound sleep.

Allyson awoke again later that evening, refreshed, yet, a slight ache left behind her right temple. For a moment she remained still in bed, staring at the white ceiling, full of minor cracks. Neville Longbottom was long gone when Madam Pomfrey looked her over thoroughly, and when she didn't find anything wrong with her, Allyson was good to go.

With a strong pain-killer potion, she stepped out into the gloomy, low-lit hallway. She walked slowly, still a bit unsure about the many corridors which looked alike and crossed her arms over her chest. The castle was eerily quiet and even her footsteps were muted. Through the windows, one could see the downpour of rain against the cool glass and the dark clouds that wound towards the castle sedately. The darkness of an upcoming storm made it almost impossible to distinguish anything out onto the grounds, yet, as she glanced out over the long stretching lawns, absentmindedly fiddling with the cuff on her sleeve, she shivered. Remembering the brooms, she almost looked away again, but something caught her attention. Her eyebrows furrowed when she thought she saw a dark figure moving between the trees at the edge of the forest-line. The wind howled and Allyson squinted her eyes hoping to sharpen the _figure_ in the distance.

' _Who in their right mind was out there at this hour and with this weather?_ '

Thunderstruck and for a moment the sky lighted up. The person — obviously a human if you took the height and built into account — was illuminated as well, but Allyson could not make out who it was from the distance. The strange red hue over his face that she could distinguish made goose pebbles break out over her flesh. While she looked at the figure's face, Allyson just knew the figure was staring back at her and she gasped.

Swallowing, she pushed herself away from the window and jogged the last remaining few stairs towards the seventh floor. She breathed out the password at the Fat Lady and stepped into the common room. She had all but taken three steps when she was suddenly almost tackled by Harry and Ron.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, waving his hand in front of her face as if to check if her vision was adequate.

"Didn't he hurt you?" Ron added and Allyson raised her eyebrows.

"Hurt me? No, _he_ didn't." She answered Ron before turning to Harry with a frown. "And Madam Pomfrey healed me in record time."

Ron nodded, before beckoning to a few seats into the shadows. They were the farthest away from the fire. As they sat down, both boys started to talk excitedly. Their voices hushed, and their speech erratic. She didn't understand.

"Okay, guys, my head." Allyson interrupted swiftly. "It might be healed, but it isn't ready for— _this_."

"You never guess, who we're going to duel tonight at midnight!" Ron whispered exited, shifting in his seat.

Harry rolled his eyes, and said: "Yeah, Malfoy challenged us,"

"Oh, he did? What a surprise!" She mocked dryly before rolling her eyes. "And to a duel as well, the odds of such occurrence!"

Sticking out his tongue, Ron huffed. "No need for the heavy sarcasm."

Allyson chuckled. "There's ever need for the sarcasm. It isn't like I wouldn't have guessed, after all, if you're fighting, it's with Malfoy." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "What I don't get is the midnight thing. I'm pretty sure we're not allowed out of the Common room after nine o'clock."

"We know," Harry answered.

"So you aren't idiotic?" Allyson replied in her best McGonagall voice. "Yet, if you two are caught, you'll be in serious trouble."

"Gee, you sound like Granger!" Ron said, scowling.

Allyson rolled her eyes, "But a duel? Like a Wizarding duel? Do I need to start planning a funeral?"

Harry winched slightly at the word 'funeral' and turned to Ron with a frown.

"What?" Allyson asked amused. "A real Wizarding duel continues until one dies. Of course this is a duel between three eleven-year-olds, but still."

"Exactly, so we don't have to worry. It's unlikely that we could do more than just bruising each other a bit. And if it goes wrong, one of us just punches Malfoy in the face." Ron said, shrugging casually.

"You two are insane that's for sure. Violence doesn't solve everything…" She answered, resting her head against the wall. "I don't really get how Malfoy can rile the two of you up, the way he does."

"How did he treat you, anyway?" Harry asked, shifting in his seat.

"How did _who_ treat me?" She asked slowly, strangely unperturbed that she had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

"MALFOY!" Harry and Ron exclaimed simultaneously, staring at her in utter confusion. Their loud outburst attracted the attention of various students in the common room. Her bloodied forehead did the rest. Percy the prefect closed in on them with large steps.

"Did Malfoy do that to you?" he asked with haughty disdain. His eyes narrowed even further as he glanced at her bloodied forehead. "Because if he did he should be disciplined for it." he continued venomously.

"Erm, no, this," Allyson pointed at her forehead, "is the result of a flying accident." Deliberately repeating Malfoy's easy explanation of today's events, "Which, for the record, I'll never be doing again!"

Percy arched an eyebrow. He didn't seem convinced, but as someone on the other side of the room called for him, he left the three first-years alone. The other students kept staring though, speculating what exactly happened during that _flying_ _accident_. It was quite annoying. When a sixth year pointed at her forehead and started to laugh condescendingly, Allyson pulled out her wand — Ron and Harry shifted uncomfortably in their seats — and pointed it at her own head.

Flicking it carelessly, she muttered, "Tergeo."

"Well, with that out of the way, what about Malfoy? As far as I know, he only treated you two nastily today. I've barely seen him." Allyson said.

"Perhaps she has memory loss? Erm, amnesia!" Ron retorted.

"He carried you to the hospital wing, after the accident. Well, I suppose you wouldn't remember that. You were completely knocked out." Harry said. "Honestly, at first I thought you were dead!"

Allyson gave them a blank look, "He carried me?"

"Yes, that was actually quite funny. When Neville fell, we first thought he would land on Malfoy, he was standing right next to you. But then we realised he was falling towards you." Ron explained and, upon noticing Allyson's annoyed look, smiled apologetically; "Which of course wasn't funny."

"No, I wouldn't think it was funny," she murmured.

"Either way, Malfoy managed to jump away, and you took the full brunt. You still bumped into Malfoy, though, so he couldn't completely avoid you."

Harry nodded. "Madam Hooch got Neville off of you and ordered Malfoy to bring you to the hospital wing. We did volunteer to do so, but she wouldn't have any of it. Told us you weren't some object to fight over, a bone I think she said and then Malfoy carried you to the Hospital wing."

"I see. I was already wondering who brought me to the hospital wing…" She muttered to herself. She grimaced slightly. She would have to thank Malfoy, even if he was an annoying specimen. She hoped he would refrain from being a total arse until she finished her apology. Tapping her fingers against her ankle she mulled over the best place to corner him. He was unlikely to respond well to her when he was with his Slytherin friends. She was still wondering which approach would work best when Ron leant closer to Harry and murmured something into his ear.

"You can punch him in his face yourself," Harry whispered back, but Allyson still heard him.

"I really don't think you two should go." Allyson retorted suddenly before Ron could answer. "I'm not saying you two can't hand him his arse, but it's Malfoy. Who guarantees you, Malfoy will even show? I wouldn't put it past him to just stay in his bed." She fell silent for a moment.

"Perhaps she's right, Ron," Harry said. He was the most sensible of the two.

"And what if he does show?" Ron demanded. "The whole school will know in an instant we chickened out of a Duel."

"Say you ran into a teacher," Allyson told him blankly, her mind frozen when a heaviness throbbed behind her eyes. Madam Pomfrey had warned her it could happen. Had warned her about the likelihood of an onset migraine, which was now clouding her vision. The Grandfather clock above the hearth chimed ten times and she massaged her temple.

"We can't say that." Ron responded and she rolled her eyes.

"Of course you can." She told him delicately. "You can even fabricate detention with Filch. I'm reasonably sure that so many get detention with him, he won't even be deterred if someone where to ask."

"Right," Ron mumbled and Allyson pulled her pain-killer-potion out of her pocket.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked and she shrugged.

"I'm all right," she muttered, pressing her fingers against her temples. "I'm going to bed, though" she continued, unplugged her phial and chugging down the vile tasting potion. The pulse of pain travelling through her temple had her dazed for a second. "I've got a migraine."

"Sleep well, Ally." Harry smiled and Allyson groggily got to her feet. As she crossed the common room, moving towards the rickety stairs to the dormitories.

"If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them," Ron whispered and Allyson shook her head. If they wanted to go on a fool's mission, fine with her. She was so tired, she fell into bed and dropped straight to sleep.

 _To be continued_

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 **A/N: I try to deviate from the book as much as possible, letting Allyson have her own experience, but there are certain parts the book remains my guideline. I would love to hear what you think, if you notice a mistake or if you want something to say!**


	8. Chapter 7, The Duel

**A/N: And this is chapter seven. As always, thank you everyone who is following this story and went through the trouble to leave a review. I am very pleased people are enjoying this. Enjoy this next chapter and leave a review:) Let me know what you think, if you have comments or if you see typo's or mistakes. They do so now and then slip through, no matter how often I read something (which I admit is odd, but I am a silly dyslectic, reading over things is my jam :O)**

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 **o.O.o**

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 _ **Chapter Seven, The Duel**_

 **A** llyson was dreaming. She knew she was. It was raining, pouring if you will, but her clothes didn't plaster to her body, nor did her hair flatten to her scalp. The wind howled and judging by the spidery branches of the dark trees; it must have been mid-winter.  
Allyson could see the vapour of her breath billowing before her in white puffs. Her booth-clad feet slugged into the mud and the hem of her light blue dress was caked with mud.

Billows of mist surrounded her and the silhouetting of the trees caged her in as a strange sort of canopy. She sighed again; a new gust of air warming the cold air around her. A sharp wind raked around her and Allyson heard a twig snap not too far away from her. Wrapping her arms around her prone body, she felt strangely afraid. Even though it was only a dream, she trudged softly away from the sound and hid behind a tall tree.

The wet scrubby grass clung to her legs as the last light of the sun pierced through the darkened clouds in the sky. There was another sound; the shuffling of leaves, closer now. Allyson could barely swallow the cry when she turned around and glanced at a hooded figure standing in the shadows of the corpse of a tall tree. His cloak flailed wildly in the wind.

She screamed—

The wind was suddenly knocked out of her and she shot upwards, her wand in her right hand and a book in her left. Hermione Granger lay sprawled on Allyson's lap, tripped over Allyson's trunk. The light of her wand illuminated the other's horrified face and she rubbed her temple absentmindedly.

"Hermione?"

"Bugger!" She hissed, propping herself up and swatting her unruly hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, Allyson. I know you need your rest!"

"Needed, past-time. I've been fine for hours now, migraine is gone too. What are you doing out of bed?" Allyson answered automatically, her eyes flitting to the yellow alarm on her nightstand. "It eleven thirty…"

"Oh, I— I couldn't sleep." She finished lamely.

"Right, of course you couldn't…"

"You could do with a bit less of the sarcasm."

Allyson ignored the yap and curled her legs up under her. "What were you going to do?"

"Harry and Ron." She answered tartly. "They probably told you. How can you let them go?"

"You've lost me."

"They are going out to duel Malfoy."

"So?"

"What if they'll get caught?"

"That would suck, but how am I supposed to be blamed for that?" Allyson asked. "You might not have noticed it, but I am not their mother. I've told them I didn't approve and what they do with that, is to them."

"If I was their mother…" Hermione muttered, not deterred at all by Allyson's words. She moved across the room, slipped through the door and stomped away through the corridor.

Sighing audibly, Allyson took her wand and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. Knowing Hermione, she'd probably pondered about a solid plan all evening. Staking out in the common room, sounded like something she would do and Allyson decided hazily she was joining her. If only to mediate the situation…

Stepping into her slippers and wrapping herself up in a fluffy bathrobe, she descended the stairs to the Common room, the old wood creaking ominously under her weight. Stepping into the darkened hallway for several seconds, taking in the scene before me. It was preternatural quiet, an orange hue filtering through the otherwise empty Common room. Hermione Granger was seated in one of the armchairs near the fire.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Allyson said, flopping down back on the sofa by the fireplace. Her satin pyjama was barely providing enough warmth and she hugged her bathrobe closer to her body. She shivered with cold. With trepidation. Her eyelids drooped slightly and she wondered if the boys would even come. Perhaps they would give up… Perhaps they had seen sense— Perhaps—

Soft rapid footsteps came from the tower. The light from the shallow glowing embers was not enough to identify the two dark figures, moving through the room, but Allyson recognised them either way. They crept softly towards the portrait hole and she felt slightly amused when Harry toppled a chair over and muttered indecorously under his breath. Just as they reached the portrait hole, an oil lamp flickered on.

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

Allyson batted her eyes against the offensive light. Hermione Granger, dressed in her frilly pink dressing-gown and her fluffy slippers crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both boys across the room. 'If she was their mother indeed,' and Allyson giggled softly.

"YOU!" said Ron furiously, his face turning a nasty shade of purple. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, completely unconcerned with the redhead's attitude. "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Ron looked aghast. Too shocked to speak while his mouth opened and closed. Allyson cleared her throat: "But she didn't." She cut in. "We're just curious if you two would go or not."

"You've spoken about it with her?" Ron cried, pointing Hermione's way accusingly.

"No! I haven't and, although I can't speak for Hermione, I can assure you; we're just worried about you!" she retorted, stepping up to the two boys. From the corners of her eyes, she noticed Hermione nodding in agreement.

Harry turned to face her, "We can't miss a chance like this! Malfoy needs to be taken down a patch. The best way to do it is to hand him his own arse."

"What is it with boys and their egos?" She asked, scuffling her feet over the carpet. "Really, you boys can be so incredibly stupid. Fine, if you must go; then go! But you two come back here _immediately_ after your stupid hormonal-driven _duel_! And if that boy doesn't show up after ten minutes, you'll come straight back! That means without stupidly wandering the halls, or getting lost _again_! Got that?" She demanded, hands on her hips. Hermione stared at her with a mix of horror and shock.

"Yes, mum," Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he did give her a small smile.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione gave Allyson a look of disapproval. "I can't believe you approve of this!"

"I don't _approve_ of anything, but like I said before I'm not their mother." Allyson sighed, crossing to the windows and looked out over the courtyard. A dark blanket of clouds obscured the moon and the stars, but at least it was dry now.

"We can't let them go." Hermione huffed, the boys climbing through the portrait hole. She swapped her bushy hair over her shoulder and stomped after them.

"What are you doing?" Allyson demanded.

"We have to stop them. You can't just give them _your_ blessing and let them lose every point we've ever gotten so far."

She watched the older girl follow Harry and Ron out of the common room, probably wanted to continue lecturing them. Allyson grumbled, pushing herself back from the window and crossed the circular room. The portrait hole swung behind them, shutting out the soft crackling of the fire with a loud thud. She shivered as the chilly air assaulted her sensitive skin. The torches in the corridor had already extinguished their lights, dipping the hall in darkness. Fisting her wand in her pocket and brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"—Don't you care about Gryffindor?" Hermione demanded angrily, "Do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Hermione," Allyson mumbled, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking her head pointedly. "It's not our responsibility."

Ron turned around, his face reddening, "Go away."

Hermione's cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes gleamed with intensity. "All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train tomorrow, you're so —"

Harry and Ron were already starting down the corridor and Allyson gave chase. Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming with us," he told her matter-of-factly.

"And why not?"

"You've been hurt."

"I'm fine now," she answered shrugging. They trooped through the halls when suddenly Hermione's shrill voice echoed off the high ceiling.

"What am I supposed to do?" Hermione's shrilly voice shrieked.

Allyson glanced back at the closed portrait. The portrait of the Fat Lady, who took their passwords and opened the entrance for them, was empty. She must have gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"That's your problem," Ron told her somewhat nastily. "We've got to go. We're going to be late."

"We can't leave her here," Allyson said.

Harry growled and with a grunt both boys, glaring at Allyson as if she stole their candy, turned around to glower at Hermione. The bushy-haired girl jogged up to them and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm coming with you too,"

"You are not." Ron snapped back, looking as if he was going to be sick by the mere idea.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us out, I'll tell him the truth; that I was trying to stop you and you can back me up." Hermione threatened, pointing at Harry and Ron.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry snapped sharply, elbowing Ron to keep him quiet. "I heard something."

"What is that?" Allyson whispered, now also hearing the rustling sound.

"Mrs Norris?" breathed Ron, eyes squinting through the dark.

Mrs Norris was the pet cat of Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. She was small, dust-coloured, with large bulging yellow, lamp-like eyes and a scrawny, skeletal body. Whenever students out misbehaving ran into her, Filch wasn't far behind. The four of them stilled, holding their breath as a dark shadow neared. Neville Longbottom, cheeks flushed red, turned the corner and almost cried out in relief.

"Thank goodness you found me!" He wailed. "I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get into bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password is "Pig snout" but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." Hermione snapped.

"How's your arm?" Harry asked. Obviously trying to change the hostile air.

"Oh, it's fine," said Neville, holding up his arm to them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute." He turned his gaze to Allyson. "How is your head?"

"Fine, mended in about 20 minutes." She said, grinning.

"Look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—" Ron said, running his hand through his hair.

"Don't leave me!" Neville cried; scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone. The Bloody Baron has passed here twice already."

Ron moaned loudly, but several minutes later the five Gryffindors continued their way towards the Trophy room. Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you gets us caught, I won't rest until I've learnt that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and use it on you."

"Oh shut up, Ronald." Allyson snapped. "We're going to go to the trophy room, so Harry and you can have your stupid fight. You'll make it quick, and then we're going back to bed. Hopefully, the Fat Lady will back by then. And if _she_ isn't I'll side with Hermione and let you two take the fall."

"Oh, that's just great, Ally!" Harry sarcastically muttered.

"Well, don't get us caught, Harry, and you have nothing to worry about."

They arrived at the Trophy room at ten to twelve. It was a rectangular room, full of crystal glass displays filled with medals cups, plates, awards and shields. The moonlight glimmered off of the _Awards of Services to the School_ near the high windows, yet they were the only ones around. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet, so Allyson slid down the wall to sit. Drawing her knees up under her chin, she absentmindedly began thinking of defensive spells she'd read in her schoolbooks.

Harry and Ron stood in the middle of the room; glaring at the doors on either end. The minutes crept by and Allyson started to get bored. "This is stupid," she muttered before pulling her wand out of her pocket and rolling it between her hands.

Swishing it, while muttering some minor spells, she glanced around. It was unusually quiet, the halls devoid of the life they usually sported. Swishing her wand expertly — she was good at magic — she muttered: "Relashio."

Strong fiery sparks shot out of her wand, and she regretted the choice of spell immediately. The sparks flew around, bumping a few Cups over, while throwing a shield across the room, slamming it against the wall. The crash was ear-deafening in the eerie silence and she winced when it clattered to the floor.

Blinking a few times stupidly, she noticed the others stare at her. Allyson scratched her head. "Erm, Ups?"

"Unbelievable!" Ron hissed, glaring at a cup falling down from its shelf and onto the ground with a sharp tingle. "Miss Sunshine here has to go making sparks and throwing all the cups around." He snapped; letting his head fall into his hands. Neville and Hermione were staring at her with open mouths; a mix of shock and surprise on their faces.

"Was that spell supposed to do that?" Harry asked slowly.

"Yeah, sort of, but I didn't aim it at something." Allyson retorted sleepily. "I just wanted to see the sparks. They're useful when you're in trouble or lost and you need help. I didn't think it over, I'll admit. Perhaps we should go back?"

"Well, maybe he has chickened out," Ron muttered uncomfortably, eyeing the fallen shield.

"Perhaps he has," Hermione muttered. "Let's get out of here."

They didn't get a chance to get out of the Trophy room when they heard a sound in the next room. Filch voice, as greasy as his thinning hair, softly greeted them and all of them froze. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

"We have to get out of here, now!" she hissed. Horror-struck Allyson left the room quickly and the others followed her out of the trophy room. Neville's robe had just flown out off the Trophy room when they heard Filch enter it.

"Ah Hah!" Filch shouted with glee, his voice swiftly getting closer. "Footprints in the dust!"

"Oh no," Harry moaned. "Run!"

Harry beckoned them all to follow him, leading them out of the hall, down a long gallery full of suits of armour and into a tapestry, which appeared to be hiding a passageway. They darted through, leaving the old caretaker behind and skipped to a halt in an unknown part of the castle, breathing hard. In the distance, they heard Filch scream.

Allyson slowly lifted her head, controlling her breathing as well as she could. Flicking her wand the corridor was suddenly illuminated in soft light and she finally recognised her surroundings. They were on the third floor, near their Charms classroom, which thankfully was miles away from the trophy room.

"That was way too close!" She whispered.

"Too close, indeed," Harry agreed. "How did Filch even know where to look?"

"Well, if it wasn't thanks to that stupid spell, Malfoy must have tattled on us. That git!" Ron hissed.

"Of course Malfoy tricked you!" Hermione snapped to Harry, breathing laboured and a hand tightly pressed against her chest. "You realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy tipped him off!"

Neville had gone as pale as a sheet; doubled over and wheezing while rubbing his upper arms. Hermione became silent with a huff when she realised the boys weren't going to acknowledge she had been right all along and Allyson glanced around her, trying to orientate herself enough to return to her Common room.

"Just let's go back to our dorms before we get caught!" She decided on. "I don't really fancy spending the rest of the night in Filch's office while Dumbledore expels us."

She didn't wait for them to answer and turned on her heel, starting down the corridor. The other Gryffindors followed her without a word. They weren't even halfway down the corridor when suddenly a doorknob started rattling. Something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them and cackled loudly.

"What are you wandering around for, ickle firsties?" Peeves, the poltergeist, said loudly. His mean eyes glittering wickedly as he looked the five Gryffindors over.

"Peeves, please shut up!" Ron said. "You'll get us thrown out."

"It would be for your own good, you know!" Peeves said in a saintly voice.

"We'll get—" began Harry, only to be interrupted by Allyson who elbowed him.

"Perhaps, but then you would be aiding Filch." She said. "You don't like Filch, right? I mean, if you tattle on us, you'd make him, God forbid, happy. We wouldn't want to see him happy now would we?"

The Poltergeist looked down menacing. She could almost hear the gears of his brain work and she smiled sweetly. It was common knowledge Peeves and Filch had some sort of rivalry going on.

"I mean, why not make some noise somewhere else, like I don't know, in the dungeons. That way he'll be chasing a ghost and won't catch anything." She said, smiling sweetly.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed how the others edged away to the end of the corridor.

"Chase a ghost?" He echoed. She slowly started to inch for the end of the corridor as well. Peeves turned around in mid-air, obviously in thought and took no notice of them momentarily. She caught up with the others, just as they rounded the corner.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed a second later, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"Shite!" Allyson muttered.

"This is the end. We're done for!" Ron moaned, as they ran for their lives. As he looked over his shoulder, he stumbled and almost fell into a door at the end of the hall. With a groan he tried to wrestle it open, but to no avail. Allyson's heart was pounding as he rattled the handle and Harry pushed Ron aside.

"Open the door!" Ron yelled, tugging at Harry's robes.

"It's not budging!" Harry screamed back and Allyson rolled her eyes. It was locked, what did they expect?

She pulled out her wand, but before she could do anything, Hermione pushed both boys out of the way. "Move!"

"Alohomora!" She snarled, tugging Harry's wand out of his hand and aiming it at the lock. A white light shot out of the wand and into the lock. The door clicked, Ron quickly pulled it open and they all ducked inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Ears pressed against the door, they listened for footsteps.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch asked, his voice barely audible through the thick wood. "Quick, tell me!"

"Say 'please'," the poltergeist sassed him.

"Don't mess with me, Peeves!" Filch said, voice moving up a few octaves; he was probably losing his patience. "Now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves sighed in an annoying sing-song voice.

"All right— please!"

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"

Filch cursed foully, and Peeves whooshed away; laughing loudly. Allyson let out an involuntary sign. _Way_ _too_ _close_!

"He thinks the door is locked," Harry said, relieve washing through his voice. His elbow was slightly pressed against her side and she sighed gratefully.

"And with good reason," Hermione whispered, her voice a few octaves higher than usual.

"Guys?" Neville whimpered, his voice barely audible.

Allyson turned around with a frown and felt the blood rush out of her face. She was peering into the faces of three dogs. Three angry dogs. Wait no, one dog with three heads. They were not in an abandoned classroom as she had initially thought at first. This was the forbidden third-floor corridor. The one with horrible death in the form of a Cerberus! It was huge, filling the whole space between ceiling and floor. Three heads; with mad rolling eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

The Cerberus was standing quite still, staring at them. Allyson supposed the only reason they weren't ripped to pieces was that the animal had been surprised. The Cerberus, a Greek mythological animal — even in the Wizarding world; she was surprised about its existence — was standing in a SCHOOL, guarding a trap dark hole. Allyson noticed, even in the dark, the lines in the floor.

The animal seemed to get over the haze he'd been in; making thunderous growls, which didn't leave much to the imagination. Harry slammed the door open with something akin to a war-cry and she made a beeline for the charms classroom, no longer caring if Filch caught them. Even sending her home, would be better than being eaten alive!

Swinging down a doorpost and dashing down one corridor then another, they ran, almost flew, back to the Common room. Filch must have hurried off to look elsewhere because they didn't see him anywhere. Not that they cared. All they wanted to do was put as much space between them and that monster as fast as possible.

They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait hole. The Fat Lady had returned from wherever she had gone to, and gave them surprised looks, as they all but yelled the password. Allyson collapsed in one of the armchairs. Heaving and panting, not getting enough oxygen into her system, she let her head lol on her lower arms.

"What in the bloody Hell, is a beast like that doing in a school filled with children?" Ron yelled while slumping to the ground.

"Guarding, I suppose!" Allyson wheezed, still battling with the shortage of air.

"What?" Harry said, leaning against the wall.

"Geez, are you boys dense?" Hermione exclaimed she was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"Standing on?" Ron repeated. "I was a bit busy looking at his heads!" he exclaimed.

"It was standing on a trap hole!" Hermione snapped angrily. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Before you lot go and break more rules, getting us killed— Or worse, get us expelled." she finished, before turning around, and stomped up the stairs to the girls' bedrooms.

"You would think we brought her with us willingly!" Ron hissed.

"She was right though." Allyson wheezed. "About the trap-hole-bit at least. Not about the _being expelled part_. I really would prefer being expelled than to die a gruesome death!" she exclaimed.

"What do you two recon it was guarding?" Ron asked, slumping down onto a couch.

"Hm, what do you think about the grubby little package?" Harry said, curling his legs under him on the couch. The fire sizzled when Allyson flicked a log into the fireplace and restarted the fire.

She massaged her temple and shifted into her seat. "What on earth is the size of a _hockey ball_ , and has to be guarded by a _Cerberus_?" Allyson muttered and received two blank looks.

"What's a Cerberus?" Harry asked.

"What's a hockey ball?" Ron asked.

Allyson smiled fondly, "Right, your question first, Harry. A Cerberus is a three-headed dog often called the ' _Hound_ _of_ _Hades_ '. In Greek mythology it was described as the monstrous multi-headed dog who guarded the gates of the underworld. It kept the dead from leaving and the living from entering and if I recall right it's best known for the myths of Heracles, or better-known as Hercules."

"You have the great gift to make me feel like you're speaking a completely different language, while still talking English and making me feel as if I should understand what you're talking about. Do you enjoy flaunting around your higher intelligence?" Harry asked, giving her an annoyed look.

"I do actually. It makes me feel all special." Allyson drawled sarcastically. "No, my parents just insisted on me taking on Greek mythology."

"You're crazy," Harry muttered, kicking playfully at her leg.

"Don't you know it," Allyson drawled back, before straightening in her seat. "Either way, the Cerberus, there are many descriptions of how it should look, guards treasures," she explained, before glancing at Ron. "And to answer your question Ron; a hockey ball is a small ball they use to play a Muggle sport with; hockey."

Ron nodded, seemingly happy enough with the answer.

Harry chuckled; "Your parents really fed you Dictionaries and encyclopaedias, I take it?"

Allyson stuck out her tongue. "No, only history books on Saturdays." she drawled back.

Harry shook his head. "But you do have a point, why use a Cerberus, if you don't want to guard something special. What could they possibly hide in the forbidden corridor?" Harry asked.

Allyson didn't know.

 _To be continued..._

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 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter^^ Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 8, Hallowe'en

**A/N: And here is chapter eight. Thank you to everyone who took the time to type down their thoughts about the chapters. Nothing motivates me more!**

 **Enjoy chapter eight!**

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 **o.O.o**

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 _ **Chapter Eight, Hallowe'en**_

 _'It's as much fun to scare as to be scared — Vincent Price'_

 **W** hen Allyson woke up, it was close to daylight. The southern sky was pale and the grounds were suffused with a grey mist. She blinked tiredly against the morning light as it filtered in through the window. A soft light fell in through the gap between her curtains and she could vaguely hear the drum of the rain on the window pane. As she rolled over her onto her stomach, her alarm shrilly beckoned her to get out of bed. Allyson practically had to crawl to the Great Hall for breakfast and even though she sat there with the other students, it seemed beyond the scope of her abilities to even grab herself a sandwich. The others didn't look much better, but at least she had the cover of a light concussion —which she would use with vigour.

"My head feels like it was slammed into a wall," Ron mumbled as he peered into a cup of tea Harry had poured.

"What?" Allyson mumbled as she massaged her temples.

"My head—" he started and then looked at her, "never mind, I shouldn't have said anything. What subject did we have again?"

"Transfigurations," Allyson mumbled.

"McGonagall will kill us." Harry started, suddenly wide-awake and rummaging through his bag. "I haven't even looked at our Transfigurations homework."

"You haven't done it?"

"Don't imitate McGonagall, did you do it?" Ron snapped and Allyson rubbed at her sleepy eyes.

"Yes, I did," she retorted before dropping her notebook on the table. "Look into this, at least you won't have an exact copy of my essay that way."

"You're brilliant!" Harry muttered, flipping through the small brown book. "Absolutely brilliant."

"Flattery gets you anywhere, I suppose." She said.

Both boys grumbled in agreement and started to pen down an essay in hardly articulate handwriting until the shrill sound of the bell announced the beginning of the first class. The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed through the large room and the three friends dazedly followed the other Gryffindor first-years. Allyson rubbed her eyes sleepily before glancing out of the second-floor window, overlooking the grounds with a frown marring her face. She wasn't sure why her eyes wandered over the grass. She wasn't sure what her always avid mind hoped to find during the day.

Even though her eyes stung and her head ached, Allyson still remembered the dark figure moving around the forest edge. There had been something about a person hovering around a dark and, most important, a forbidden forest that made her suspicious. He wasn't there now of course. Shaking her head as if to rid herself from the mental image, she settled next to Harry during classes.

She was a bit absent the rest of the day, not even the arrival of McGonagall, always a strict and sheer authority in the classroom, could keep her really focussed on anything.

During lessons Hermione Granger, for once, sat subdued behind her desk. Her hands glued to the dark oak table-board, not even once flying into the air to answer a question. McGonagall eyed the girl with a small frown but even after the teacher asking her if she was all right, she looked blankly into her textbook.

Classes that day were dull. The only place Allyson had wanted to be that day was rolled up under her covers in her soft bed. Instead, she leant her cheek on her right hand, while being vaguely aware of the chatter from the students crossing the corridors, and made rather impressive doodles into her notebook.

Draco Malfoy looked rather surprised and somewhat disappointed that both boys hadn't gotten into trouble. Of course, none could comment on that, so they settled for glaring at each other in the hallways.

When that initial day passed, and Allyson had a good decent night of sleep the search for the guarded object was resumed. The guarded object — they agreed on it being small, no bigger than two inches long, and either really valuable or really dangerous or both — was one of their top priorities. They had been guessing what it could be — a magical ring or a vial with a valuable potion — but guessing was rather difficult without any more clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near that dog again. All Hermione cared about was never speaking to Harry and Ron ever again, but the boys didn't seem to mind. Allyson found it rather awkward, as she was playing matchmaker when they were sitting together.

While Harry and Ron were looking for a way of getting back at Malfoy, Allyson really couldn't care less. She still had to _thank_ the boy, which went without much success seeing she never saw him on his own in the library again. Nor Harry nor Ron understood why she would want to thank ' _that_ _nasty excuse for a human being'_. As far as they were concerned Malfoy shouldn't be thanked but pushed down a set of stairs.

"I don't understand, Allyson!" Ron sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. They were strolling through the corridor towards the Great Hall. "Why would you want to thank him?"

"I'm with Ron on this." Harry agreed, looking at Allyson as if she'd grown a second head. "He's a git."

"I don't care Harry. He still brought me to the Hospital wing. Thereby, I'm not in the mood to start arguments with the boy whenever I see him. You and him already fight enough as it is, I don't want to be a part of that."

"It's not a good idea, Allyson." Harry sighed. "What about his friends?"

"I'm not planning to apologise in front of all of his friends." Allyson shrugged, before sliding down at the Gryffindor table.

"I don't like leaving you at his mercy," Harry muttered and Allyson frowned.

"He's eleven." She shook her head and turned her attention to her breakfast. "I wouldn't be at his mercy anyway."

Ron munched noisily on his fried potatoes and glared. "Just curse him when he tries anything."

She more than once wondered how he could eat fried things so early in the morning. She didn't have any luck finding Malfoy that day, nor had she any luck the days after that. It was almost as if he sensed Ron and Harry's constant vengeful mood, and therefore he seemed to keep close to his friends.

When their second flying lesson came by the students were put to a test. Most of the wizard-bred children had been on brooms at least half of their life and after last week's escapades — Madam Hooch's eyes flitted over Allyson sulking form — she wanted to make sure only the ones who needed this class would remain. Allyson had never wanted to come near a broom ever again, but after realising she would be excused for the rest of term, if she passed that _one flying test_ , then she would do just that.

The test was simply enough: fly from one end of the field to the other. Madam Hooch never specified how far away from the ground you were supposed to fly and after some coaxing — her broom once again refusing to come up — she got it to actually fly back and forth. A reasonable achievement and she was more than happy when Madam Hooch reluctantly sighed her permission paper to stay as far away from the class as she could in the future.

Harry on the other end was a natural on a broom. He was also somewhat lucky. He had been doing a somersault, hooting loudly, when Professor McGonagall saw him from her office. The old Head of House suddenly came crossing the grass-field, robes flying around her in the chilly wind, before dragging Harry off (signed permission paper clutched into his hand) and introduced him to the Quidditch Captain from Gryffindor — A tall boy named Oliver Wood. Although he had to try out, Harry made the team with ease. That excited both Ron and Harry and even though Harry had to train three evenings a week, he never seemed happier.

During practice, he borrowed a school broom, but a week later, a shiny new Nimbus 2000, apparently a really good model, arrived for Harry. Allyson didn't understand even one basic rule of the game, she did recognise the look of envy and spite on Malfoy's face when he passed them in the hallway. "First years are not allowed to have brooms, Potter!" he started angrily. "You're in for it now!"

Ron smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Go ahead, go find a teacher, McGonagall gave Harry special permission. What was it again you flew at home?"

Malfoy's face tinted pink, his normal saunter gone and the arrogance pose neglected for the anger that flashed over his face. Allyson groaned audibly the retort she wanted to make so bad swallowed. "Please, can we not do this. Again?"

As Ron gave her an irritated look, she whacked him on his shoulder with her Potions book. "I have better things to do than see who has the biggest out of the tree of you," both Harry and Ron and even Malfoy turned a shade of red, "Malfoy, Harry got on the House-team. Yes, life is unfair, deal with it."

"You suck the fun out of everything," Ron grumbled.

"No essay fool proving for you then?" she whispered back and he pressed his lips together, looking more like a sulking child than anything. "I'm going to study at the library. Feel free to join me. And by the way Malfoy; thanks for carrying me to the Hospital wing last week. Good day!"

"Who has the biggest?" Crabbe asked and as she looked over her shoulder she saw that Malfoy's face turned even redder.

"Shut up, Crabbe!"

She heard Harry and Ron laugh, even after she ascended the first flight of stairs. Hiding a smile she made her way through the corridor. The halls were crowded with students and the chaos was almost perfect. A couple was making out near an armour with a large brown spot on the right side. They were always making out on that spot. She passed a cliquey of fifth-year girls laughing about something insignificant and then she entered the library. As she looked around, she easily pinpointed Hermione at her usual table at a window.

"Hey, what you're doing?"

Flinching in her seat, Hermione Granger almost screamed. Allyson laughed when the girl turned around in her seat to glare at her. "Christ Allyson, you almost gave me a heart attack."

Allyson chuckled. "Quilty conscience? You really shouldn't get so engrossed in your books. I shouldn't be blamed for any heart attacks you get for not noticing your surroundings."

"Aren't you the funny one?" she sarcastically asked, but Allyson noticed the quirk of her lips the older girl tried to hide. "I'm preparing for charms. Flitwick promised we would start on the actual wand work soon."

"Right," Allyson nodded, "do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all,"

Charms was given by the Ravenclaw Head of House, Professor Flitwick. He was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Allyson enjoyed his subject well enough and flipped her textbook open. The two girls worked in silence on the basic principles of the 'levitation spell'.

When Hallowe'en arrived a heavy sort of excitement laced the air. Allyson could hardly believe she'd been at Hogwarts for two months now and she awoke that morning to the scent of baked pumpkin. After a quick shower and pulling onto her robes, she made her way to the great hall. The tables were filled with baked pumpkins, pies and mashed potatoes. The usual breakfast was there as well and Allyson smiled when she took a seat at the Gryffindor table. It was still early so she was one of the first students to arrive. Pulling a book out of her bag, she grabbed a goblet with pumpkin juice with her other hand.

During Charms, Professor Flitwick announced they were ready to start making objects fly. He told the class to break into pairs and passed out feathers to each pair of students. Allyson paired up with Neville, even though she had seen him try to make eye contact with Harry (which had been another reason to pair up with the boy). Harry paired up with Seamus Finnigan, while Ron and Hermione were the only duo left to work together — a match made in heaven really —. Placing the feather in between them gingerly, they shot each other a death glare.

Hermione hadn't said a word to the two boys since that fateful night in the Trophy room and it didn't seem she was planning to either.

"Now don't forget that wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick; perched on his usual pile of books. "Swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too— never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

The lesson went relatively well. Allyson let her book hover above the table; pleased to manage that without attracting any attention — except Neville's, but he was her partner, so she didn't mind.

Neville, who looked as if he feared a disaster, only swung his wand — muttered: ' _Swish and flick,_ ' — but didn't bother with the spell itself.

Allyson gave him an encouraging nod, "It's all right! Your wand movement is good!"

The boy almost beamed. "You think so?"

Allyson nodded.

He took a long shuddering breath, gave his wand a swish and a flick and said: "Wing-ar-dium Leviosa."

Although the feather did move, it didn't come from its place and Neville turned to her, proceeding to give her a puppy-dog-look and Allyson inwardly sighed. She hated it when people could do that! Pushing her hair back, she slowly swished and flicked her wand at the feather; "Win-gardium Levi-ou-sa."

The feather slowly levitated up.

"Well done, Miss Gilbert." Professor Flitwick beamed at her and gave a firm nod.

"It's Levi-ou-sa not Leviou-sa!" Hermione's voice snapped and Allyson lost her focus. Glancing behind her, she let the feather float down. Ron and Hermione were glaring at each other.

"Well, you do it, if you're so smart!" Ron hissed, folding his arms over his chest.

A determined look settled on Hermione's face. Allyson knew her well enough, that challenging her like that did not bode well. Making the right wrist-movement she said: "Wingardium Leviosa."

The feather levitated up. It floated higher and higher, swiftly nearing the ceiling.

"Oh look, Miss Granger has done it." Professor Flitwick's excited voice boomed through the classroom. "Well done!"

Ron glowered at the beaming bushy-haired girl, slumping into his seat and grumbling under his breath. Allyson watched them for a few more moments before returning her attention to her assignment.

The students let out a simultaneous sigh, when the bell rang twenty minutes later. Charms was their last class before lunch and there was a sudden rummaging for textbooks and parchment as the students started towards the door and spilt out into the hall. While fumbling with the straps of her bag, Allyson followed her two friends out of the classroom. For the first minute — still pulling at the straps of her bag — Allyson walked along a step behind them. Harry and Ron had their heads bent together and were whispering furiously.

"Really, 'It's Levi-OOOH-sa, not Leviosaa'." She heard Ron say, his voice a few octaves higher, apparently mimicking a girl's voice.

Harry chuckled softly, although a bit forced, yet, Ron didn't seem to notice and continued. "It's no wonder she got no friends!"

A loud sob later, someone ran passed Allyson, pushing past Ron and Harry and disappeared down the corridor. Chestnut hair bounced on her back and Allyson recognised Hermione a bit belatedly. Several students watched her go and Allyson was momentarily frozen.

"I think she heard you," Harry whispered awkwardly and Allyson grumbled, stomped over to where her two friends were walking and crossed her arms over her chest.

"That was totally uncalled for!" She snapped, shoving Ron lightly. "She _really_ isn't that bad. Actually, she's a really nice girl!"

"But, she… I mean… Erm… Sorry…" Ron sputtered, looking uncomfortable.

"Right, thanks, Ron. But it isn't me you should apologise to." She huffed. "I'm going to find her. But just for the record, I think this hostility, or whatever it is, got to stop."

Pushing past them, Allyson made her way up the corridor, heading towards the library. Chances were she would go to a place she felt most at home. The library qualified for that. Yet, as she looked around through the looming bookcases and around by the dimly lit study tables at the back of the room, she realised that either, Hermione thought the library too obvious to have a mental breakdown, or she just really didn't want to be found.

The first bell rang and Allyson realised she didn't really know Hermione all that well. Yes, they'd studied together and she knew Hermione was the only child of two dentists, but other than that she didn't really know Hermione's stomping route. It was only after overhearing a few upper-years talking about the ' _crying_ _firstie_ ' on the abandoned toilet on the second floor, she finally found the older girl. She was seated on the floor, knees tucked to her chest and arms wrapped around her. She was crying hard, her shoulders shuddering with every sob.

"Hermione?"

"Go away!"

Allyson tentatively took a step forward, pushing a lock of hair out of her face and carefully peered around. Apart from them, the lavatory was deserted and most of the stall doors were hanging open.

"Hermione, could you please be reasonable, I'm not going to leave you here like this!"

Her bushy-haired friend looked up. Her cheeks blotched and stained with tears. "Allyson?" she asked softly, peering up at her younger classmate as if she'd never seen her before and Allyson frowned. Hadn't she recognised her voice when she'd called out to her before?

"Yes," she nodded, "yes, it's me."

"What are you— hick— doing here? Didn't you— hick— want to go to transfigurations?" Hermione asked, wiping her tears away.

"Of course not, I saw you going off all upset!" Allyson answered, sliding down the wall beside her. The tiles felt cold against the flesh of her legs and she flinched. "I'm not going to class while my friend is— upset in some bathroom…"

The girl lifted her head completely up and looked Allyson in the eyes. A lone tear dropped from her lashes and ran down her right cheek. "Really? You see me as your friend?"

A bit taken aback, Allyson could only nod. "Of course, what did you think I thought? That you were my personal encyclopaedia whenever I didn't know an answer to one of the questions on our essays?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. When I was in primary school, I was the laughing stock. No one really understood me. It's not like they tried, of course—" She sniffed. "I was the bookworm, the Know-it-all, the teacher's pet… And I don't think the moving objects helped either. But, whenever there was a test I was fair game."

"Really you were fair game at tests? My classmates thought I was the devil incarnated and wouldn't even get close to me when there was a test." She answered sarcastically. "I'd say that's very unfair. They couldn't even see past my devilishness during tests!" She continued and squeezed Hermione's shoulder. A watery smile broke out onto her face and for a moment, Allyson thought she had her, but then Hermione's face turned sour again.

"You might have been the Devil incarnated, but here, at Hogwarts, you are liked well enough." She said. "You know, I really thought that would be better; coming here. That I would no longer be the strange one. But it appears, nothing really changed. I mean, you're studious and smart, and yet, people still talk to you! How do you do that?"

"Hermione, I've long since learned that words, words don't bother me that much. They only bother me when I choose to care and therefore, I think I'm just no fun to tease." Allyson answered. "That, or they might have unconsciously realised I would hex them if they would go out of their way to harm me. That always worked rather well with the Muggles. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not that good with people either. I mean, do you never notice the looks the other girls give me? I appear to be horrible at being one. And yes, Ron and Harry, the two airheads, we're on friendly terms." She nodded, seeing the unspoken question in Hermione's expression. "They're boys. They're supposed to be clueless."

"But Weasley said—"

"I know what Ron said, he occasionally puts his foot into his mouth, but I don't think he meant any harm. He was just embarrassed that you could do something he was struggling with." Allyson said, scratching her head before rubbing her friend's arm again. "You might want to try implementing tact in your speech."

"Are you insinuating that I'm not tactful?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I miss the tact-part, when you told me point-blank that my argument on Merlin's second law was the stupidest most idiotic argument I could have come up with?"

"Right," Hermione muttered, "point taken. And just for the record, you do barely cloth like a girl. I think you only wear the pencil skirt, because it is a school regalement."

"Hn, true enough and, _just for the record,_ that comment, or a comment like that, was exactly what I meant."

Hermione smiled, pushing her hair out of her face before she glanced at her blouse with a disdainful expression. "I can't face the others like this."

"You'll be fine," Allyson replied, "let's go."

Hermione flushed darkly and shook her head as Allyson got to her feet. "I really can't!" She huffed sternly.

Allyson curled her fingers around her wand, peering down at her puffy eyes and the tear streaks still visible on her cheeks. Aiming it at her face, she waved it in a rectangular motion and muttered a spell under her breath until the evidence of her tears was all gone. "Well, you're fixed, if we hurry we are on time for Defence."

Hermione Granger gruffly got up to her feet and followed Allyson out into the corridor. Transfigurations had already ended, but if they'd headed towards the Defence classroom. They could find Professor McGonagall later and they would try and explain their absence during class — although they might slightly alter the story to not get anyone into trouble.  
They wound their way through the hall, up the stairs and down the Defence corridor. The students still had to arrive and they stood for a moment in the hallway. The door of a classroom to their right stood slightly ajar.

"Of course Master, you have nothing to fear." A nervous voice muttered from inside.

Both girls stopped and carefully peered into the room. A thin layer of dust was covering the desks and the windowsills. Professor Quirrell stood in the centre of the room. With his back turned towards the door, he was speaking to someone. Or so it seemed at first but after a second look, there was nobody else there. Scrunching her eyebrows Allyson gave Hermione a long look. Admitted, the man was strange, but she had never thought him to be barking mad! Hermione shrugged staring at the teacher as if he had grown a second head.

"I prepared it, Master, nothing can go wrong."

Hermione bent towards Allyson before softly whispering: "I wouldn't count on that. He would be perfectly capable to royally screw up, whatever it is he's planning." A smile playing on her lips.

Allyson had to bite her lip to not burst out into laughter. Shaking with suppressed laughter they went on. Eventually, Allyson couldn't hold them back anymore and the sound of her couching laughter filtered through the corridor. They heard something fall over in the classroom and Quirrell came dashing out. Pretty much looking like a deer caught in headlights. His turban had shifted on his head, making him look more like a madman than ever before; staring straight at both girls.

"W-what are y-you, d-d-doing here?" he stammered, face pale.

Allyson swallowed. It was almost time for his lesson. Didn't he know that? It was Hermione who answered, and Allyson was glad for it, as she did not yet trust her voice. "We were on our way to your lesson Professor."

"R-r-r-right, of c-c-course! O-of you g-g-go!" he said, before disappearing into the abandoned classroom and slamming the door closed.

"Right, that was weird," Hermione said.

"I don't think ' _weird'_ covers it as a description of him," Allyson murmured, pushing her hair out of her face and peered at the closed door.

"I think the adequate way to describe him is lunatic." Hermione muttered and they both snickered. When they turned the corner the other first-year students were already waiting in front of the Defence classroom. Harry and Ron were there among them, talking softly to each other. When the two girls joined the others Allyson smiled when she caught Ron's gaze. The red-head was looking awkwardly at them and Harry elbowed the other boy before both of them walked up to them.

"Erm, sorry," Ron muttered, his voice barely audible. "I shouldn't have insulted you the way I did. It was very immature of me." The red-head murmured before looking at Harry who nodded at him. It was obviously rehearsed. "You were only trying to help after all…"

No matter how awkward, after the apology, Hermione began a tentative friendship with both boys. Sitting down together in class they discussed the upcoming evening briefly before Professor Quirrell came running in— stuttering something about the corridors being too full of people and him not being able to be on time, which was a lie of course, but Allyson didn't really care. The students spent the rest of the lesson learning about the Vermillious-spell, sending red sparks around the classroom. When two hours later Dean Thomas somehow managed to blow up his chair, the lesson was prematurely ended.

Although it took some convincing, after Herbology, the five Gryffindor first-years holed themselves up in the library to get a head-start on their homework. Allyson was rather surprised to find the library occupied at all — even though it was emptier than she'd ever seen it — and she led her friends to a table in the back. Professor Snape had assigned them a 43-inch essay on the Pepper-up potion.

When it was time for dinner, the young Gryffindors entered the Great Hall with smiles playing onto their faces. The Hall had been absolutely transformed, festooned with sweets-filled pumpkins, bats, orange streamers, water snakes and so on. A thousand live bats fluttered from the wall to the ceiling in low black clouds. It was amazing what magic could do. The dinner appeared suddenly on the golden plates when Headmaster Dumbledore took a seat behind the Head Table and Allyson poured herself a cup of green tea. With a content smile, she grabbed a bowl with 'Spooky Spiced Shrimps' and scooped the food onto her plate.

Harry and Ron were eating their dinner in silence and Allyson munched curiously on her Shrimps before peering up at the bats. They didn't look quite as menacing as you would expect. The candles in the pumpkins stuttered and suddenly Hermione elbowed her.

Wrapping her hands around her warm cup of tea, she peered up at the older girl. "What is it, Hermione?"

"Professor Quirrell is missing again." Hermione murmured and Allyson helped herself to a second plate of 'Spooky Spiced Shrimps'.

"He is?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "He isn't at the Feast."

"He must be arguing with his Master if he's allowed to eat or not," Allyson muttered and Hermione sniggered into her drink. She peered at the high table and indeed Quirinus Quirrell wasn't there. She was chewing on a large bite of her shrimps when suddenly the double doors to the Great Hall burst open and Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall. Allyson smiled, before pointing her fork at the quivering man. "Found him."

Hermione rolled her eyes before stirring her soup with her spoon. The students stared with mild interest and the Professors glanced at him with unimpressed amusement as the Defence Professor stumbled inside. Quirrell sprinted into the Great Hall, the surplus of sound around them didn't even lessen when he almost tripped over his own feet and fell face-first on the floor. He struggled to his knees in front of the High Table, his turban askew and a look of terror on his face. Allyson cocked her head — somewhat intrigued — and took a bite of a tasty looking pastry. The food crunched between her teeth and golden brown crumbs fell onto her plate.

"Troll," he gasped. "There is a Troll in the dungeons! I thought you ought to know." And then he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

For a second nobody moved, but instead just gaped at the High table. Then the panic took over. Some students jumped up from their seats while others started to wail and scream. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring the students to silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled. "Lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element. He stood up and waved his hand (reminding Allyson of the Pope from Rome) and said: "Follow me! Stick together, first-years! No need to fear the Troll if you follow my orders!"

Heartbeat elevated Allyson hoisted her bag over her shoulder and stumbled over to the others.

"Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through!" Percy cried. "Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"

Several students pushed and pulled at each other and Allyson stumbled. As the Hufflepuffs came by, someone bumped into her and she was separated from the other Gryffindors. At a disadvantage with her height, she craned her neck and wove through the students only to be pushed out of course again when the Ravenclaws passed. By some miracle only she could pull off, Allyson managed to be pulled away in the opposite direction. With all the chaos the older and taller students blocked the route towards the upper-level of the castle and she almost fell off the stairs down towards the dungeons.

With a frustrated yell, she let herself be whisked away into the crowd. The flagstone stairs under her feet were slippery and the cool air emanated into her bones. The Slytherin students were descending deeper and deeper under the castle and Allyson wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling more out of place than she'd ever had before. They moved further through the darkening hall, the torches flickering as they passed. Professor Snape turned the corner, crossing the corridor and disappeared out of view, running up the stairs and she frowned, wasn't the Troll _downstairs_?

She felt dread grip her. And weren't they going downstairs?

The whole group stopped and Allyson had to fight the urge to pull her hood over her head. She tried to turn around and move past the other students again, but it was still impossible. Giving a defeated sigh, she curled her fingers into the material of her robe and hunched her shoulders.

"What is it now?" the blond boy before her drawled in an oddly familiar way. One of the Prefects from the front waved around to get attention.

"Listen Slytherins," he exclaimed, "since this Troll is somewhere in the dungeons, we realised that going to our common room, might be a bit dangerous." Allyson barely refrained from snorting. ' _Might be?_ '

"Therefore we need you all to stay together. Our Headboy has gone ahead of us and we will wait until he returns tellings us if the coast is clear." The tall boy continued.

Allyson's frown deepened. The Headmaster's command to return to the dormitories was a bit odd indeed. All of the students were in an easily defensible location with only one way in. Wouldn't logic normally dictate that the students should have stayed there in the Great Hall, instead of marching through the castle? A girl with buck teeth and large green eyes stuck her hand out with a huff. The prefect sighed in a way that made Allyson suspect it wasn't the first time she asked something. "Yes, Amy?"

"And what if the Headboy doesn't return?" Amy asked frightfully and Allyson felt her stomach tighten in dread. A troll might be stupid, but they were also very big and lump. They could crush you as if you were nothing. Perhaps staying in the group with Slytherin students would guarantee her safety better than getting lost in the confusion and encounter it.

Knowing her abyssal luck she would definitely encounter it…

"That won't happen. You're all perfectly safe with us and the Headboy knows what he's doing."

The girl seemed to accept that explanation and nodded, although she kept wringing her napkin between her fingers. It took a few minutes for the Headboy to return. His hair was tousled and his eyes menacing, but otherwise he seemed all right.

"Although the air is practically poisonous we are fine to go." He declared. He was tall and as several lower years trembled he smiled beckoning them to follow close behind. He seemed very much in control of the situation.

"And the Headmaster?" the tall prefect asked.

"Who cares?" the Headboy answered. "He should have let us lead our House somewhere else in the first place. I haven't gone and looked for him; it isn't my job to point out the things that slipped his mind. Thereby, I didn't see any teacher at all, so it seems the Troll has ascended to another floor."

The idea that the Troll had gone up to another floor did little to ease Allyson's jagged nerves. The idea that Dumbledore had not even thought about the students in the Dungeons did actually steer something akin to disgust. She had heard the Slytherins complain he was biased, but it had never occurred to her to give those rumours any credit. The group began to move again.

Scowling, Allyson followed the others. When they rounded a corner, a foul stench filled the corridor and she pushed her hands over her nose with a sharp gasp. The school's literature described trolls to be less than bright and to have a strong odour, but this— this was terrible. Several students started to wheeze and cough and Malfoy hacked from before her. His face was pinched up when he suddenly turned around, looking her straight into her eyes. He as well had a hand clasped over his mouth and his eyes were narrowed. For a moment she hoped he wouldn't recognise her, but as his eyes widened that hope was quickly diminished.

"What are you—" he began, but just then the walls shuddered. A growl could be heard and a loud bang made the ceiling shudder; dust escaping from the cracks of the plaster. Fear flashed on Malfoy's pale face and his question seemed to be forgotten.

Allyson turned — Troll be damned — and tried to push past the students blocking the way to the stairs again, but one of the older students grabbed her by her shoulder, turned her around and pushed her along.

"Bloody first years, and their nerves." a male voice snapped. "Really we are prefects, we can take care of a troll!"

Even if she believed him she wasn't too happy about being dragged into the Dungeons. They arrived in front of a bare stone wall. In the distance, voices could be heard. Probably the teachers trying to find or even fighting with the troll. The older boy behind her still had his hand resting on her shoulder, blocking her every escape route. As they stopped to wait in front of the wall, his grip tightened.

"Subaqueanus." the Slytherin prefect up front said.

There was a small grinding sound and then a passage was revealed. Allyson couldn't quite help her mouth falling open. Secret entrance indeed. The boy pushed her forward, following after the others and through the passage, muttering something about thanking the Gods for not having younger siblings and Allyson felt the muscles of her lower abdomen tighten.

The Slytherin common room was a large dungeon-like room, with greenish lamps and chairs. Just like in the Gryffindor Common room, the walls were decorated with tapestries featuring Medieval wizards — but this time the wizards consisted out of Slytherins and not Gryffindors — and their adventures. The light falling through the windows gave the room a slightly green tinge, which probably came from the lake, seeing how far below the ground floor. The common room had lots of low backed black couches and dark green button-tufted leather sofas; giving it a grand atmosphere, yet, the greenish lights, on the other hand, gave the room a slightly cold feeling as well.

Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, Allyson slowly pressed herself against the wall near the entrance and kept silent. When the entrance opened again, she was out of here.

"What are you doing here?" Draco Malfoy's voice came from next to her. "If I tell the others you're in so much trouble little pet, you'd wish you were never born."

"Not if you keep it a secret." Allyson hissed back. "And if you must know, I got separated from the other Gryffindors." she whispered as an afterthought, clasping her hands over her Gryffindor tie and started to untie the knot.

 _'Why do things like this always happen to me?'_ Perhaps there was some kind of pheromone she emitted, perceivable only on a wavelength unique to those individuals who preyed on idiots like her. With a harsh tug the tie came loose and she stuffed it into the pocket of her outer-robe.

The blond boy smiled nastily at her. "A shallow, poor, little baby-lion; among the richest of Pure bloods? I dare say that could only go wrong." He smirked at her, glancing at the nervous shiver that ran through her. "You look like a mouse in a snake pit."

Allyson felt her cheeks heat up. "First of all, it's not a _baby_ -lion, at most it's called a cub and secondly are you implying you are the snake praying on the mouse?" she whispered back. She didn't like being called a prey while he was the predator. It didn't matter that she herself had used a similar description.

He smiled, before leaning in to her ear, and whispered: "Caught on fast enough. Add to that, you very much look the part, darling."

"And why the reference?" she asked, ignoring the jab, while taking a step closer to him. He wasn't that much taller than she was. "Why not run off and get the other— ah predators?"

He clucked his tongue. She was amusing him, she realised with a shock. "I could do that, but of course I could make an exception." His breath waved over her cheek. "But what would I get in return?"

Allyson huffed. "Of course you would try to get something out of this. What, pray tell, do you want?"

A smirk took over his features, tapping a finger against his chin. "That is indeed a good question. What I couldn't let you do now —"

She glared at him as his grey-blue eyes bore into hers. He looked rather comfortable, a smirk firmly in place while leaning against the wall. What she wouldn't do to wipe that smirk of his face. Yet, violence would not go over well. He had her cornered, and he knew it. She wouldn't be able to get out of there, without drawing attention to herself. There just wasn't enough time nor space. And then there was the problem of the Troll— She didn't fancy running into it when she made her escape.

Allyson sighed, leaning against the wall as well. _She was doomed._

"Draco, what's going on?" a shrill voice asked.

 _More than just 'doomed'._

A pug-faced girl with short black hair and a haughty sneer walked up to them. Her eyes widened, when she noticed Allyson "What is _she_ doing here?" she gasped, while pointing at Allyson.

"Shut up Pansy," Malfoy snapped back. "I'm dealing with this."

"What's all the ruckus about, Pansy?" Another girl asked and Allyson recognised her as Daphne Greengrass, another classmate. She had long blonde hair, high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Allyson had thought her to be rather pretty. When Greengrass noticed her, perfect blonde eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What is a Gryffindor doing here?" she asked in a rather demanding tone.

"Yes, Draco, what is _she_ doing here?" Pansy asked Malfoy, her finger still pointing accusingly at Allyson.

The boy huffed and shrugged. "How should I know?" he muttered, scowl deepening. "She probably didn't know the way to her Common room and got lost."

"I did not," Allyson started, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I'm very well aware where my Common room is located, thank you very much. I just hadn't expected being dragged along with the lot of you." She continued and glowered at Malfoy. "It might have slipped your mind, but it was a bit of a chaos upstairs."

Malfoy smirked again. As he was about to respond, the passage opened again. Professor Snape came in, looking pale and annoyed. His robes were slightly disarranged and Allyson noticed he was limping. She didn't think he had been hurt before and she frowned. Had the Troll gotten a swing at him? The man looked around, shortly conversing with the Head boy and even from her spot by the wall, she could tell they were talking about the troll. His beady black eyes flitted around the room again, he spotted her almost immediately; pressed against the wall, three students standing around her.

His eyes narrowed instantly and he waved the Head boy away. Allyson didn't think she'd ever been happier to see him than at that moment. Malfoy's shoulders slumped in defeat and he stepped away from her as Snape stepped closer.

"Miss Gilbert," Snape said nastily — The elated feeling almost faded immediately —. "What are you doing here?"

"Erm, hello Professor." She started awkwardly, "I got dragged along with some Slytherin students, Sir. I couldn't keep up with my House and when we got down into the dungeons, I didn't think I should travel through the castle alone with the troll still out."

"Wait, 'Gilbert', that's a Muggle name isn't it?" A horrified voice whispered.

"What's the Mud-blood doing here?" someone asked and Allyson frowned. She was not familar with that term and craned her neck to see the person who'd called her that.

"I thought she was one of our first-years. I mean, I thought she was just scared." a second voice said.

"Did you let her in? Seriously Flint, can't you see the Gryffindor colours?" a girl's voice asked and Allyson felt the need to pull her hood over her head to hide the inner lining of her robes.

"Oh yes, sorry, I was really looking for those with a troll on the loose!" the second voice said, sarcasm dripping of it.

Snape held his hand up, silencing them immediately. "However she came here, she has to leave," he said, his black eyes glaring at her. "Come on Miss Gilbert."

She ducked around Malfoy went past Professor Snape and through the passage, skipping to a halt just outside the Slytherin common room, letting the chilling air waft her in her face.

"You Gryffindors really have no respect for the rules, do you?" Snape asked, the hidden passage closing noisily behind him. He looked angry.

"But I —" she started. It was of no use. No matter what she said. She threw her hands up in surrender. "I'm fine with any punishment, for breaking the rules."

"Detention Miss Gilbert, you will report to me upcoming Saturday at 11 o'clock in the morning." Snape stated matter-of-factly. Allyson inwardly screamed. "And 15 points from Gryffindor for blatantly ignoring the rules."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. This was unfair! Professor Snape opened his mouth to say something else, when soft footsteps could be heard; coming closer. A moment later, Professor McGonagall rounded the corridor.

"Miss Gilbert!" she snapped. She was pale and looked rather angry; her lips creating a thin line. Allyson bit her lip. "What on earth were you thinking? Why aren't you in your Common room? I already had to threaten Mister Potter and Mister Weasley with expulsion so they wouldn't go looking for you!"

"I got dragged along Professor." Allyson quickly explained. If their was one teacher who'd proven to be fair, than it was McGonagall. "I tried to get away, but some of the older students thought I belonged with them and kept me from getting back."

"Yes, 'dragged'." Professor Snape mimicked sarcastically. He turned around and went back into his common room. Allyson glared at his retreating back.

He was still limping. His left leg dragging over the flagstone and dark liquid splattering on the floor. Allyson grumbled and looked at her shoes; more red splatters. It was coppery red and Allyson finally understood it was blood.

She looked up again. Professor McGonagall seemed to be doing breathing exercises; her fingers massaging the bridge of her nose. Her face pinched and her lips white from being pressed together so tightly. With three long strides she stepped up next to Allyson.

"Come on!" Professor McGonagall snapped curtly. She grabbed her by her upper-arm and pulled her along, up the stairs, through the corridors and up towards the Tower.

"I really got dragged away!" Allyson said softly, biting on the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into tears.

"Yes, well Miss Gilbert, it was a long night. I think it's best to just go to bed, all right?"

"All right," Allyson answered softly. Her right arm — the arm Professor McGonagall was holding onto — was starting to get feelingless. "What happened to the troll?"

"Professor Dumbledore lured it back in the forbidden forest." The woman explained curtly. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," McGonagall snapped.

The Common room was still packed with students and noisy with enthusiasm. The tables were filled with what appeared to be that evening's dinner and Allyson blinked stupidly. Letting go of Allyson's arm, Professor McGonagall stepped back and the portrait slid shut behind her. Exhaling loudly, she heard the sound of footsteps receding and she shivered. When she looked in front of her, the worried face of Hermione stared back.

"Oh hi, I—"

She never got more words out as Hermione threw her arms around Allyson's neck knocking all the air out of her before Ron almost broke her ribs when he pulled her up a bit, into a bear hug and Harry stood next to him beaming as if she was a Christmas gift.

"Guys — Can't breathe — oxygen." She muttered patting both of her friends on their backs.

Stepping back, their fight apparently forgotten; Hermione and Ron looked incredibly relieved. It was Harry who found his voice first; "Where in the world were you off to?"

"You were gone without a word." Hermione piped up. "Have you any idea how worried we were?"

"Sorry mum," Allyson dryly remarked, making Hermione crack a smile. Harry gave her a light shove, before he dragged Allyson to a corner of the Common room. The others followed suit.

"Well, leaving the jokes aside, what happened?" Harry asked.

"Long story short, I got stuck with the Slytherins. Couldn't get away. Hell, one of them thought I was a member of their house!" Allyson exclaimed. "Snape caught me. Docked points and gave me detention. He didn't believe me, but well — I shouldn't have expected anything else, should I?" She huffed. "After that, McGonagall brought me here." She continued, chewing onto her lower lip.

"Nasty old geezer!" Ron hissed.

Harry nodded, "When we came here and didn't see you, we tried to go look for you, but McGonagall caught us."

"Yeah, she told me that." Allyson replied thoughtfully. "Snape was hurt; he was limping." Allyson continued, recalling the potions Master's slumping leg and the dark blood on the floor in the dungeons.

"Probably from the troll, I hope it really hurts." Ron said nastily and they settled in front of the fire, where they passed the rest of the evening talking. Allyson had curled herself up next to Harry, listening absentmindedly as he discussed the reason why he thought someone might have let the troll in. Allyson agreed. Trolls were really stupid. They were not supposed to be able to find themselves into a castle, much less into a school. She also wondered how the troll managed to hurt Snape for that same reason.

The fire in the fireplace flickered, its red golden tongues licking at the wood. Allyson closed her eyes and let the warmth envelop her, while contently listening to her friends even voices.

"I think someone should go to bed." Hermione's voice interrupted her blanket of warmth.

"Hm?"

"Your head is drooping on my shoulder." Harry explained amused, glancing at her through half-lidded eyes. He seemed to be just as tired.

"Sorry," Allyson mumbled, rubbing at her tired eyes.

"Let's call it a day!" Hermione said, jerking to a standing position and helped Allyson up. "Have a good night, boys."

Giving an affirmative, both boys stood up from their seats and followed the two girls to the stairs up to their dorms.

Her bed had never looked so inviting and Allyson smiled before plopping down on her mattress; she was almost instantly asleep. The stress which had kept gripping at her body that evening, finally slipping away.

 _To be continued…_

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 **A/N: Please leave a review, they make so very happy:)**


	10. Chapter 9, Detention

**A/N:** **Hello everyone, here I am again with a new chapter. To HpLover and the other guest reviewer; thanks for your reviews. I'm very pleased you like the story. Enjoy chapter nine!**

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o.O.o

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 _ **Chapter Nine, Detention**_

 **N** ovember rolled in and with that, the sun lost its jaundiced hue and a fresh wind blew across the school grounds. The days grew shorter and the first snow made its appearance. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the sky was mostly covered in a thick grey blanket of storm clouds. Allyson pulled on her winter robes and went to breakfast early on a particular chilly November day. Since it was so early the Great Hall was practically deserted, yet, the four tables were already set with breakfast. Allyson helped herself to a goblet of pumpkin juice while reading the Daily Prophet from the previous day.

Chewing on her toast, she skipped through the headlines. There was nothing of sheer importance, but the newspaper was interesting none to less. The pictures moved and she clucked her tongue as she watched the minister of magic wave irritatedly at the cameraman.

"Well, look at that. If it isn't our trespassing little lion cub." A voice lazily drawled from behind her.

She dropped her fork in her goblet of pumpkin juice and the rude blond boy took a seat next to her. She wasn't sure what he was doing, so she just gaped at him. "This isn't your table —" She muttered while fishing her fork out of her goblet.

"Ah yes, you see, I got dragged here by an _invisible_ force." He said, making air-quotes with his fingers. Crossing his legs at his ankles, he grabbed a bun from one of the plates.

"Ha, ha." She glared at him. "You are so _funny_!"

"So you're a Muggle-born?" he asked lazily, biting into his bun.

Allyson shrugged. She had thought he had already known that. "Yes, I suppose so." Pushing a lock hair out of her face, "I thought we had already established that, why?"

He shrugged, his eyebrows knitting together. "No particular reason," he muttered.

They fell silent. He casually picked out some food from the plates and inspected them. Allyson watched him. His pale blond hair reminding her of the dream she had last night. As if stung by a bee, he suddenly jerked up in a standing position and left the Great Hall with swift strides. Allyson watched him go in puzzlement. Never in her life had she met such a strange boy.

A thick fog had permeated the grounds and the days grew chilly, causing a spate of colds among the students and staff alike. As the schooldays passed Malfoy stopped being the enigma she had initially thought and Allyson went about her schoolwork in somewhat of a trance. The teachers had started to bury the first-year students under homework, but Harry and Ron didn't seem faced. They still speculated what could be under trapdoor were more than a little peeved that nor Allyson nor Hermione found the promising adventure of the highest importance comparing to their schoolwork.

Although their friendship was still of the level of a begrudging acceptance, Hermione would look over the boys' homework, and reprieved Allyson of that duty. The older girl always flat-out refused to do their homework for them, but Allyson noticed she was more than willing to sprout out the answers when you asked her the right questions. Something Harry seemed to have noticed too. Hermione was very forward with her intelligence, while Allyson kept her smart remarks to a minimum. She had always been clever, but she was a special form of clever. The clever that only needed to read something once to recall it in great detail. Yet, she was also the silent type of clever and did not answer a question, unless it was directly asked of her.  
That didn't mean that she wasn't faring well in her classes. Even with the advantage of having a photographic memory, she was unusually good at magic. It was as if it had waited dormant for years and now that she was using it, she revelled in it.

Malfoy kept giving them calculated looks and smirked knowingly when Allyson would answer his glare with one of her own. She suspected that the broom-thing was still a sore spot for him. Harry being the youngest seeker in years was the second sore-spot, even if the bespectacled boy had a lot of last-minute Quidditch practices. Oliver Wood, the tall fanatical Quidditch captain, seemed to be under the impression they could keep their new seeker a secret and one evening when he loudly exclaimed that none of the other houses seemed the wiser, Harry shared an amused look with Allyson. The first match of the season was approaching that Saturday and although Harry couldn't wait for it to arrive, Allyson was not looking forward to it. Severus Snape had an uncanny way of reminding her of her misdeeds and appeared not to be the kind to forgive and forget. After double Potions that Friday he reminded her that she would meet him at eleven o'clock sharp for her detention in his office and Ron had turned such a dark shade of purple, she'd thought he'd stopped breathing.

"I still can't believe that git!" Ron exclaimed loudly, stomping down the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

Allyson smiled tiredly, while she followed the red-head out onto the grounds. She had her hands deeply pushed into her pockets and shivered as the chilly wind blew her hair out of her face.

Harry nodded, his shoulder hunched up a bit. "He docked points _and_ you have detention. All you did was being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Allyson shrugged. "It definitely sucks, but I'm sure I'll survive." She sighed. "It's hardly the first time I had detention either," she whispered as an afterthought.

"Really?" Ron asked looking aghast that his silent friend had been in detention before.

"Not in this school," Allyson said, shrugging.

"I don't really get it," Hermione said, adjusting her scarf. "You would think the man would want to see his own house perform, but apparently not."

"Nothing against your logic, Hermione, but I think, he'll just let her mop the dungeons or something, and still go and see the match." Ron said, pulling a sweet out of his bag. "At least that's the drill when Fred and George get into trouble."

Allyson sighed. "Without magic, I suppose?"

"Yeah, but perhaps he won't mention it. First-years can't normally do that much with their wands, I suppose he wouldn't expect you to know cleaning spells." Ron said, glancing at Allyson through half-lidded eyes. "You know them, don't you? After all, you spent so many hours in the library." Allyson frowned. The line; 'you barely care for social activities', hung unspoken in the air.

"He has a point," Harry exclaimed quietly. "We don't really use a wand during potions."

"No, that's true," Allyson admitted begrudgingly. She didn't really think that mattered though. After all, she had enchanted her potions knife just last week to cut the potions ingredients for her. Snape had scoffed, but for once hadn't commented on it, but that pretty much told him she was handy enough with a wand, didn't it?

She sighed and slumped down onto the grass. After several seconds they had a small fire going, which provided enough warmth to be comfortable, but too little to become sleepy.

They sat in silence. Harry was flipping through a book — ' _Quidditch through the ages by Kennilworthy Whisp_ ' — which he'd borrowed from Hermione, while the others enjoyed the small free time.

At some point, Allyson heard, more than saw Professor Snape coming their way. His heavy breathing and the soft grinding of his leg over the ground were an immediate give-away. Elbowing Harry, she mouthed 'Snape' at him and the four friends immediately situated themselves around the fire so it was out of sight.

"What you've got there, Potter?" Professor Snape asked, his beady black eyes flickering darkly.

"A book, sir," Harry said, showing him his Quidditch book. His hand was shivering slightly, but perhaps Snape would think it was from the cold.

He glanced at the title and smirked. "You are not allowed to take library books outside the school." He said, reaching out to grab it. "Give it here!"

With a pout, Harry gave his book to the potions master, who turned on his heal and went back to the school. Allyson watched him with a curious frown while he limped up the stairs towards the Entrance Hall. He must be really hurt if he was still limping. Allyson couldn't think of a reason why he wouldn't be able to heal a _simple_ wound, yet, here the man was walking as if they had to amputate his leg.

"I've never heard of a rule against taking library books outside on the school grounds." Hermione offered lightly, curling her legs under her.

"I'm sure that's not a real rule." Allyson muttered frowning at the retreating figure of their Potions Master. "We would have known if it was. I mean, you know what Madam Pince is like. She would have threatened you with it the second you left with one of her precious books."

"He made it up, just to spite me." Harry exclaimed, his cheeks blotched red. "I don't know what I did, but the man truly despises me."

Allyson patted her friend on his back, "Perhaps if you ask him politely, he'll return the book to you."

He gave her an annoyed look, but then shrugged. "I could try of course."

She looked after him as he left their little group and made his way up the stairs into the school. Allyson turned back towards the fire and sighed.

The remaining trio fell into light conversation and enjoyed the few hours out onto the grounds. Using her bag as a pillow, Allyson plopped down on to her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. Hermione was telling them about her previous school — left out the part of how she loathed it — and Ron excitedly listened. His eyes widened in admiration and he oh'd and ah'd whenever she explained a subject he hadn't heard of before.

"Did you go to Muggle school too?" Ron asked, directing his attention to Allyson, who was comfortably toying with the small bracelet around her right wrist.

"Oh, yeah I did." Allyson admitted glancing up at the curious red-head. "But weird things kept happening, so my father decided that it would be better to change tactics. Or so he called it."

"Change tactics?" Hermione asked. "So what, you didn't have to go to school anymore?"

"Actually, that is pretty much an accurate explanation." Allyson said, smiling beside herself. "From the age of nine, I was homeschooled. I had a tutor who taught me all the subjects they covered in Muggle school as well. Although, she did also _teach_ me manners." She sarcastically continued, looking sour when she remembered the old hag threaten her with a ruler. "My Father insisted on her doing so, but really; that old hag was the Devil on heals, I swear!"

Ron chuckled his tongue. "I can't believe I actually like you! You sound like a bloody Pure-blood snob!"

Their laughter filled the air.

"Although I have can't say for sure I know what you mean with 'Pure-blood snob', I can tell you my father is actually an utmost arrogant man." Allyson said with a note of laughter in her voice. "It has to do with his work I think. It made him think he's better than the rest."

Ron chuckled, crossed his legs at the ankles and was about to give an affirmative, when Harry threw his schoolbag in front of them, barely missing the fire and slumped down next to her, completely out of breath.

"Hello, to you too," Allyson said, pulling his bag away from the fire and sat up on her knees. "You look as if you saw a ghost."

"He, He," Harry panted, his voice squeaky and his forehead sweaty, "he tried to get past the three-headed dog."

"The Cerberus?"

"Spare me, Allyson," Harry muttered, rubbing his hands aggressively against each other.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I saw Snape, with his leg, bleeding." He said as if that explained it all and took a shuddering breath, "He said something about not being able to watch all three heads at once. I think— No, I know he tried to steal whatever it is, that Hagrid took from Gringotts!"

"No— he wouldn't. I know he's not very _nice_ , but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe!" Hermione exclaimed, looking offended.

"Honestly Hermione, you really think all teachers are saints!" Ron huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"They do have a point, Mione," Allyson muttered. "Not about you thinking that all teachers are saints," she quickly added, when she saw the other girl's face redden. "But last week, I saw Professor Snape climb the stairs, instead of going down towards the dungeons and helping the other professors."

Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, Hermione said: "I just don't see why! What could possibly be so valuable that he would take such risks?"

"Perhaps diamonds?" Ron said, his eyes gleaming up.

"I don't think so Ron, diamonds are kept in saves. No matter how valuable, they don't need to be guarded by a Cerberus. Thereby, if you want diamonds you can always just raid a Muggle jewellery store. I say with magic that is much easier" Allyson said while stretching. "And moreover, wouldn't things like that be kept in someone's home, instead of a school?"

Harry nodded. "We need to find out what it is, why Snape wants it and what we can do."

"Easier said than done, we already tried interrogating the ghosts and that didn't go so well," Allyson said, massaging her temples.

"Ah," Hermione muttered, "so that was what you asked Binns about…"

"Hm hm,"

"Then we go visit Hagrid again!" Harry huffed, looking annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm he got.

"And then what?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want to say? 'Oi Hagrid, what is it the three-headed dog is guarding on the third floor?' and 'Oh yes, we've known for ages there is a three-headed dog, we almost got killed by it too'." She continued, sarcasm oozing so heavily of her voice she sounded somewhat hysterical.

"Right, we have to think about that before we go," Ron said, pursing his lips.

"We just have to ask the right question," Allyson said.

"Thank you Madam Obvious," Ron remarked, "and pray tell, what is the 'right' question?"

"Well, Dumbledore is keeping it safe for someone right?" Allyson asked.

"I suppose," Harry admitted.

"You want to ask who the someone is?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "You just start with a simple conversation topic. Something he likes or something that will stroke the male ego."

"Like what?" Harry asked again.

"I don't know, Harry, I only know Hagrid from a distance. You're the one who's invested on a personal level."

"There goes nothing," Ron muttered and Allyson kicked him.

A chilly wind had started up and she shivered. "Let's go inside. I'm starting to get cold"

The rest of the day passed quickly and Saturday morning arrived too early. When Allyson stepped into the Great Hall, as one of the first like usual, she was pleased to see it was at least a bright and clear morning but was less pleased that she had to spend the morning in the dark, gloomy dungeons. Just the day before she had asked Fred and George what to expect of Snape's detentions, which were, according to the two boys, not that bad. Or at least she would only have to clean something, but she was still unpleased she would miss Harry's very first match.

Putting a bun on her plate, pouring herself a steaming hot cup of tea and treating herself to a bowl of cereal, she stared depressingly in front of her. Pondering over how she always managed to get into _this_ kind of trouble, she started to spoon hot cereal into her mouth. After ten minutes, she could no longer think of suitable excuses why and how she always got herself into trouble and started to curse Snape's very existence. That was definitely more satisfying than pondering about her bad luck.

She was in the middle of cursing his bad manners towards the Gryffindors when Harry slumped in a seat next to her. He looked positively sick; his face was almost green and he was trembling violently.

"Are you all right?" Allyson asked, pressing her hand against his forehead, checking for a fever.

He nodded, his head wobbling up and down, "I'm fine, nervous I guess."

Allyson rubbed his back soothingly, the way her mother always did when she was scared or sickly. "You'll do fine Harry! I've seen you on a broom. You're really good at it!"

Looking up at her, he smiled. "Yes, until I fall off my broom and break my back."

She smiled at him and poured him a glass of pumpkin juice. "I'm sure you won't break your back." She said softly. He shook his head when she placed the glass in front of him.

"No, I don't want anything." He muttered, his face paling even more when he glanced at the food around him. "Scratch what I first said, I'm not going to fall off my broom. I'm not even going to the match! I think I'm going to be sick."

Allyson frowned before pulling at a loose threat at her sweater. "You're not going to be sick and you have to eat," she said, filling his plate with a sausage and some scrambled eggs. "It isn't healthy to skip your breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day."

"No,"

"I'm not having this!" she threatened annoyed before pushing the plate over the worn-wood of the table. "You are going to eat _this_ and you'll drink the pumpkin juice, without acting like you're going to die. Because you won't"

Harry made a face. "I don't wanna." He whined, perfectly imitating a four-year-old. "I'm not hungry."

"Really, if I have to feed you, go on like this." She said while tapping her fork on the rim of his plate. "Just eat this. It's not that much!"

He put his lower lip out and sulked. "No!"

Allyson sighed before snatching his fork away. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Piercing a sausage onto her fork, she brought it to his face. He didn't even make an attempt to open his mouth and she felt a muscle in her cheek jerk. "I will _force-feed_ it to you, you do know that right?"

He huffed, but did open his mouth and chewed on the sausage, although with an annoyed look on his face. She put another piece of sausage of his fork and brought it up to his lips again.

He glowered at her, but again opened his mouth and swallowed the piece.

She held out his fork, "Will you eat the rest by yourself, or do we need to keep this up, till your plate is empty?" She asked.

"No _mum_ , I will finish my plate." He sarcastically remarked.

"Good," Allyson retorted, continuing to eat her cereal. Side glancing at Harry, as he finished his food — a scowl firmly in place. He remained silent during breakfast and when it was a quarter to eleven, all of the students started to pack, getting ready for the match. Allyson sighed and pulled her schoolbag out from under her seat.

"Good luck on the match, Harry!" Allyson said, smiling at Harry before pulling him into a hug. He stiffened and for a moment she felt his arms hover around her before he returned the hug.

"I know you'll do great." She whispered comfortingly.

"And else, at least, I had something to eat." He muttered dryly and she grinned.

"Exactly," she agreed, rather peeved that from their close proximity she could feel his rapidly beating heart. "It's gonna be all right!" She continued before stepping back and letting him be swept away by the Gryffindor crowd.

She made it to Professor Snape's office in the nick of time and knocked loudly. It took a moment before an answer came and for a small moment she thought that Snape might have forgotten about her when his cold voice exclaimed: "Come in."

She slowly stepped into the office, curiously peering around. Snape was seated behind a large dark desk, grading papers and Allyson blanched when she recognised her own hand-writing. The man twirled his quill between his fingers before adding a line to one of her paragraphs and looked up at her.

"Well, at least you have a sense of time." He said before storing the essays in his desk drawer.

With a sigh, Allyson supposed was entirely for her benefit, he stood up and placed a bucket with a sponge inside it on one of the tables in front of her. "You may start with cleaning the floors. And I presume you've looked yourself up some spells, so if you would give me your wand." He said, silkily. "No magic outside the lessons, as I'm sure you remember."

Allyson felt more than a tad disappointed that he had so easily caught on to her and she glowered. Reaching for her wand, she took it out of the pocket of her sweater and gave it to him. He twirled it around his long fingers before throwing a dark grey scarf around his neck. "Follow me,"

A side door led them into the Potions classroom and she eyed the tables, stacked with cauldrons wearily. Almost every one of them had dried goo encrusted on their sides and she didn't even dare to think what it might have been.

"You may leave when you are finished," he told her woefully. "I see you in a bit, Miss Gilbert."

She had to actively fight the urge to throw the bucket through the room and peered at the dark tables. Although less dirty, they were dirty all the same. She sighed listlessly and set the bucket down into the sink, filling it with water. Snape was hovering at the door and she peered at him through thick lashes. If she didn't know better than she would have said he looked troubled. "The tables and the cabinets will be enough. Leave the cauldrons as they are."

Allyson nodded slowly, watching the man turn on his heel and walk out of the classroom with firm steps. When she heard his footsteps fade away she pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked around the classroom again. There were still enough tables and cabinets to clean for her to miss the match completely, yet, without the cauldrons, she could at least a part of her Saturday without aching hands. Adding soap to the lukewarm water, she set to cleaning the tables. It wasn't long until before cleaning the tables and cabinets had her grumbling under her breath and with more force than necessary, she dropped her cauldron onto one of the tables. The water was turning murky already and eighty percent of the tables still needed a thorough cleaning.

Although the cold of the dungeons wasn't bothering her now, yet, her sweater was damp and soapy plastered against her body. She scrubbed away aggressively humming an old lullaby tone to distract herself from the tedious task but it was taking long. Exhaling softly, she wiped her hand over the gathering sweat-beads on her forehead and dropped the sponge on the table. It would have gone much faster if she had magic to clean the tables and cabinets.

She pursed her lips. Till three months ago, she'd never needed a wand to make magic happen. And although it was against popular believe her magic had never really been triggered by accidental magic. She possessed a too strong of control over her magic to call it accidental. From what she'd understood magic in children was often emotionally triggered and completely chaotic. From the tender age of seven, she had been able to _trigger_ it at will and control it. The raw magical power that ran through her whenever she had called upon it never felt as if it was chaotic, even if she would have loved to have such an excuse.

Rubbing her fingers absentmindedly over her temples she stared at the sponge. She had used magic in a situation similar to this when she had gotten into an argument with a classmate and ended up having to wipe the blackboard clean. Back then she had relied on the burning sensation to aid her and now, she was going to do so too. Squeezing her eyes closed she concentrated on her heartbeat, picturing what she wanted vividly. It started slowly, a slight change in the balance until the whole world seemed to lurch. Allyson felt the heat of energy, her magic she now knew, run up and down her body, setting every nerve on fire. It moved up beneath her skin and she opened her eyes again. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth she concentrated hard.

"Scourgify,"

She wasn't entirely sure if something would happen. Wasn't sure if it would work like this, but she felt something building up inside her and then it all burst free, swooshing past the tables. She saw it pass over the tailboards as a small shockwave, repelling the dirt and as the magic moved outwards, she had to catch herself on a table. Her heart was beating rapidly and as she tried to get her breathing under control, she peered around, somewhat exhausted. Water was puddling on the cold flagstone floor and the walls, cabinets and tables were gleaming faintly in the light of the torches on the wall.

Pulling herself up Allyson had to lean heavily on the edge of the table before her vision sharpened. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she grabbed a towel from beside the tap and cleaned the floor. With a soft sigh, she placed the bucket under the sink and placed the sponge on the old tile of the sink and peered through the room again. Snape's desk was still somewhat damp from the water and she crossed the room again — towel fisted between her fingers. Picking up a stack of papers she slowly placed it down on a chair and went to dap at the water. Rubbing it dry, she noticed another paper stuck in the top desk drawer and the desktop. She was about to pull it loose when Snape dashed into the room. His face was contorted in anger and he looked ready to commit murder. Gulping nervously, she placed the paper down on top of the others and continued to clean the desk off, praying he wouldn't notice the use of magic.

"You may depart, Miss Gilbert." The man hissed, as he carelessly flicked his wand; the bucket, tea-towel and sponge disappeared into thin air and Allyson nodded.

She inched away from his desk and snatched her bag from a chair before she ran out of the classroom. As she crossed the corridor, she came across the other Slytherin's. All of them were looking foul, and Allyson absentmindedly felt for her wand.

And then she skipped to a halt.

Her wand— ' _Shite!_ '

Groaning, she turned around and retreated her steps to the dungeons. She arrived back at Snape's office, the door was open and she saw him go through the papers she had seen him go through before.

"What is it now, Miss Gilbert? Didn't I dismiss you?" He asked, not bothering to look up from the files.

Allyson inwardly cringed. _He was in a very unpleasant mood…_

"Excellent point, Sir, but you still have my wand." She replied taking special care to sound polite.

He sighed, straightened himself and looked up at her. Pulling it from his robe, he strode up to where she was standing and gave it to her. "I would advice you to stay out of trouble for further notice."

She nodded and stepped back, while he slammed the door closed in her face. ' _Fairly_ _unpleasant_ ' as a description for the man was an understatement. Without any further disruptions, she made it to the Quidditch field. Although the Slytherin stands were deserted, the other students were still there. Looking around she spotted the bushy hair from her Hermione dancing around the other Gryffindors. The festive mood was contagious and she smiled.

"Ally! You're here?" Hermione said, skidding up to her. "We won!"

Allyson nodded, smile broadening. "Good, how's Harry?"

The older girl bit her lip before glancing around. "Well, he's all right I guess." She explained and when she noticed Allyson's worried expression she shrugged. "Nothing really, he's just a bit— startled. That's all."

Allyson inclined her head, waiting for the other girl to continue. When Hermione made no cue to continue, she sighed and crossed her arms impatiently. "And _what_ startled is Harry?"

Hermione sighed, before grabbing Allyson's hand and dragged her away from the pitch towards a secluded spot.

"Snape! He tried to hex Harry's broom!" she explained in a hushed tone, looking around as if the Potions Master himself would suddenly pop up behind them.

Allyson's eyebrows shot up. "Come again? I thought you didn't buy all the conspiracy theories the boys have going on?"

"I don't— Well, I didn't!" The girl huffed and swatted her hair over her shoulder. "At first I didn't, but I know a possession spell when I see one!"

"Okay so to get this straight: Snape tried to _possess_ Harry's broom— and you…"

"I set him on fire so he lost his concentration," Hermione said, puffing her chest slightly.

"Oh, of course, you set him on fi— Excuse me?" Allyson spluttered. "Wicked," she said, finally registering Hermione's words. "Pity I couldn't participate in the fun. I had to clean the tables in the dungeons. Well, at least he didn't have me mop the floor. And I didn't have to do the cauldrons. I suppose it wasn't all that bad."

Hermione nodded although Allyson didn't think the older girl ever had a detention before in her life. "Come on, the boys are waiting for us. Hagrid invited _us_ — well, mostly Harry— for tea."

Allyson nodded, frowning while following the other girl passed the lake, over the grass and towards the edge of the forest where Hagrid's cabinet was located. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes stood against the wall next to the front door. When Hermione was about to knock Hagrid threw the door open and smiled broadly at the two girls. "Ello girls, come in!"

They smiled back before stepping inside. The hut had only one room, with hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling. There was a fireplace roaring softly and a copper kettle hung above the dark amber heart. In the corner was a massive bed with a patchwork quilt and a huge moleskin coat hung from the edge.

Harry sat slumped in one of the cushions. At first, Allyson hadn't even noticed him because only his head was visible, but as she followed Hermione further into what she supposed served as the living quarters, she noticed his unruly dark hair. Ron sat across from him, a sneer firmly in place, but Allyson didn't care.

"Are you okay?" She asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, having to hold herself up with the other. Harry, who still wasn't all that used to friendly physical contact, stiffened for a second before relaxing and leaning his head back against her shoulder.

"I'm fine,"

"I swear!" Ron cried at Hagrid, "It was Snape, he tried to curse Harry's broomstick." Before looking over at Hermione, who just stepped into the hut. "Wouldn't take his eyes off him."

Although slowly letting go of Harry, she kept her hand resting on his shoulder and sat down on the edge of the table near the window. Hagrid grumbled something under his breath as he glanced at Harry, who absentmindedly raked his fingers over Allyson's hand in a way that made it clear he wasn't as okay as he seemed to think.

"But why would Snape want to jinx Harry?" she asked, shifting her hand so she could catch Harry's. He seemed to appreciate the simple gesture and she noticed the tension leave his shoulders.

"Rubbish," Hagrid exclaimed as he poured hot water into a teapot and walked over towards the little table in the middle of the room. "Now why would he do that?" Hagrid argued. "He ain't a professor for nothing!"

Harry and Ron shared a look before Hermione nodded _almost_ undetected.

"We found something out," Harry began. "On Hallowe'en Snape tried to get past that three-headed dog, on the third floor! It bit him! We think he tried to steal whatever it is it's guarding"

Hagrid dropped the teapot and with a crash china littered the floor. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

" _Fluffy_?" Harry echoed.

"Don't tell me the dangerous Cerberus is yours, now is it?" Allyson asked, "Mythical monsters don't make good pets, or do they?"

"Course he's mine and he's a darling." Hagrid began. "Bought him off a Greek chappie, I met in the pub las' year— I lent him to Dumbledore to Guard the —"

"Yes?" Harry said eagerly, sitting up immediately.

"Now, don't ask anymore," Hagrid said grumpily. "That's top secret, that is!"

"If that's so, then why did Professor Snape go to the third floor instead of the dungeons, when that troll was in the school?" Allyson asked. "If he's supposed to protect _it_ , then why the hell would he try to get past that bea— Fluffy?"

"And why did he try to _kill_ Harry?" Hermione added shrilly. Her face was contorted in raw anger, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. It seemed she had done a full 180, where Snape was concerned. "I read all about jinxes, you have to be in utmost concentration! You've got to keep eye contact. Snape didn't blink! Not even once!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid exclaimed hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all four of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guarding', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" Harry exclaimed. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself. Practically shooing them out of the cabin and slammed the heavy wooden door in their faces. They stood on the doorstep to the rickety old hut for a moment before tracking out onto the grounds again.

"Right," Ron began, staring at Hermione expectantly. "Who's Nicolas Flamel?"

Harry followed his gaze and smiled. "Yeah, who's that?"

Hermione bristled before her face turned scarlet. "I have no idea." She huffed, obviously not pleased with the idea that she did not know about something.

 _Nicolas Flamel_. Well, it did sound familiar, that she had to admit. She read about him for one of the many history assignments her tutor insisted on and she frowned in concentration. Digging through her memory, she tried to go back to her home-schooled lessons. She had gone through many subjects with her Muggle tutor. Marco was in many ways an eccentric man, but he had really liked his subject and taught it well. She almost smiled when she envisioned the face he would make when child-Allyson hadn't known something.

"I think—" She began. "I know him. From one of my history lessons."

Massaging her temples, she bit her lower lip. "I just—" The three Gryffindors turned towards her.

"You do?" Hermione asked, looking even less pleased.

Allyson nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I believe— I think that Nicolas Flamel was a French Alchemist who lived in the 14th century. There was something else, but really; I wasn't that good at history." She finished as an afterthought. Hermione looked somewhat pleased with that explanation and Harry and Ron frowned. It was, of course, a lie. Allyson had loved history. While she might sleep through Binns' lessons she did read up on them in the afternoons. The old ghost quoted directly from the oldest version of the book 'Accurate Historical facts' and reading from the book was much better than listening to the ghost droning on and on.

"Bugger!" Harry exclaimed softly. "That doesn't change much. Your Flamel lived in the 14th century, but we need to find out which Flamel lives in this time."

"We need the library for that," Hermione decided and the others nodded slowly.

"Right," Ron answered dryly.

"Sounds like a sensible option." Allyson nodded ignoring Ron's petrified expression and peered over at Hagrid's chicken coop. The chickens and the rooster crowded around the coop, poking their beaks out through the fence while peering up at the humans.

"We might want to go and have dinner first though." Harry decided and the others nodded. The sun was setting and long shadows stretched out on the ground. Allyson wrapped her arms around her middle and followed behind the others. She had the unpleasant feeling of someone watching them and when the bushes behind them rustled, she quickened her pace. It was hardly _safe_ on the grounds with the dark-robed stranger skulking around during the night and she hesitantly peered over her shoulder. The edge of the forest was already hidden in shadows, but she was reasonably sure two glowing orbs were peering back at her.

She shivered and turned her face to the castle again. Despite the chilly air, the cold that settled into her bones was from a whole different degree then.

 _To be continued..._

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 **A/N: I'll admit the love for history that's all me** **. My dad really enjoyed history. Or at least some parts of history. So that would be all me. I remember that when I read Hp and the Sorcerers stone that I knew who Nicolas Flamel was hahaha. But than again I loved fiction and read every book I could get my hands on. I'm sorry for the rambling, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you think!**

 **Leave a review!^^**


	11. Chapter 10, A ghost

**A/N: And here is chapter ten. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter and of course let me know what you think! I wanted to say something about the possible couples which might happen much later; much of it is not set in stone. I'm not sure if Harry and Ginny will end up, nor do I know for certain Hermione and Ron will end up. I will admit, I've never been the biggest fan for the latter. To be honest I don't see how their relationship would ever work but... Anyway, I have most of the story drawn out, but I can never figure out who should be with whom. I will stop rambling now! Let me know what you all think!**

 **And to all who have reviewed this story so far: thank you, I hope you'll keep giving this story a chance.**

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o.O.o

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 _ **Chapter Ten, A Ghost**_

 **T** hey'd gone to the library that evening, planning on finding books on Nicolas Flamel, but they hadn't had much luck. Allyson, Hermione, Ron and Harry hadn't managed to learn anything about Nicolas Flamel and whatever it was that made him valuable in this time. All the while the days had turned bright, humid and cold. One morning in mid-December Hogwarts found itself covered in several feet of snow and the school grounds were almost unrecognisable. The Lake had frozen solid and although some of the older students entertained themselves with ice skating, Allyson didn't dare to come near it. Every time she contemplated it, she stared at the dark recesses and the giant squid who still moved under the thick layer of ice and scampered back.

As the Christmas holidays neared their search for Flamel turned almost frantic. Hermione and Allyson would be travelling home to enjoy their time with their parents, while Harry and Ron would stay at Hogwarts. Neither of the girls thought the two boys were much help studying on their own but had not been able to come up with much either.

Classes had become a steady routine and although the Common Room and the Great Hall had roaring fires in the fireplaces, keeping the students comfortable, the corridors and halls were icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes, which were held in the almost freezing dungeons. Apart from the bitter coldness in the Potions classroom — which made the students huddle as close around their hot cauldrons as possible — Snape was in a permanent foul mood since Hallowe'en. He assigned a bizarre amount of homework, burying not only the first-years, but also the upper-years under the assignments and essays.

The potion's master stalked through the classroom, his limp gone, and sneered. He glared at the students who made mistakes, glowered at Harry (for being born) and he glared at Allyson who seemed to have not done enough wrong to comment on it. As he rounded on Neville Longbottom, who actually squeaked in fear and dropped his cauldron to the floor, Allyson noticed the gleeful expression on Draco Malfoy's face.

"What a jerk!" she whispered, glaring at the blond boy. The enmity of the school against Slytherin House, which Allyson admittedly noticed, seemed to have pushed the Slytherins students over the edge and made them even more hostile than normal. Just like the other Slytherin's Draco Malfoy had not taken the Quidditch results well and just like expected from the spoiled-rich-kid, he lashed out in words. He was very good at it too. Making small lingering comments about how appalled he was that some people would have to stay at school. It never failed to make Harry flinch.

Glowering at her cauldron Allyson flicked her wand, watching with a somewhat pleased expression as her knife started the progress of slicing the shrivelfig roots into small matching pieces.

"Miss Gilbert," Snape's voice decided coldly from behind her and she closed her eyes. It seemed it was her turn to be taken down for something. "This is potions not Charms, refrain from using your wand."

"But Sir, I found this spell in the second year Potions textbook," Allyson explained, flicking her wand absentmindedly. The knife stilled its cutting progress and fell harmlessly onto the cutting board.

"I don't need your word for being a pompous swot, Miss Gilbert." He hissed dangerously "Slice your roots without magic."

Feeling her cheeks heat up, Allyson nodded curtly before starting to cut her roots with loud rhythmic taps on the cutting board. From across the classroom, she noticed Malfoy smirk and Allyson had to resist the urge to make a vulgar gesture. Harry whispered soothing words to her but quickly stopped when Snape gave him the stink eye. They resumed working in silence.

When they left the dungeons an hour later, fingers cold and cramped, they found a large fir three blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet stuck out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Do you need any help, Hagrid?" Ron asked helpfully, glancing at the tree with a frown. It wasn't like they had the muscle to help him with the tree.

"Nah, I'll manage." Came the muffled reply.

Allyson hoisted her bag up. She had been in a rather bad mood ever since the first hour of potions, therefore she kept silent. Hermione shuffled sideways to peer at Hagrid's face, probably working on a way to ask him about Nicolas Flamel again. Allyson couldn't find it in her to care that moment. When she returned home, she would ask her father about Nicolas Flamel. He really had a knack for history, so he might come up with something valuable. And if that didn't work, she could always ask a history— She could ask Binns! How stupid could one get? It was so simple. She had stayed behind at multiple times to ask something to the ghost, for he went way too fast to understand all the details that weren't in the book at once. Sure enough, they had agreed to keep their search a secret, but Binns wasn't the definition of sanity, nor did he seem to realise where he was half of the time. Allyson wouldn't be surprised if he had no idea of what was going on, on the third floor either, so asking him was rather safe.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. Allyson almost screamed and turned around with her cheeks reddening. Malfoy smirked, not at all faced by Allyson's glare, and looked the four Gryffindors over with contempt. His smirk widened when his eyes fell on Ron.

"Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts? I suppose— that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron's ears turned red and he dived at Malfoy. Allyson barely had enough time to grab onto Ron's robes and she had to use her full weight to keep him from bodily wrestling Malfoy to the cold flagstone floor.

"Stop it, Ron!" she gasped, already panting from the effort it took to hold the taller boy back. "It's not worth it."

Ron, in a fit of genius she couldn't help admiring, unclasped his outer-robe, shrugged it off and shoved Malfoy back. Allyson dropped back on the floor and the torches on the wall flared when in an instinctual response her magic surged. Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, about to push Ron off of their leader and then Snape stepped into the hall. Allyson felt her stomach twist uncomfortably when his beady eyes gleamed darkly and scrambled to her feet.

"What's going on here? Weasley, no fighting!" Snape hissed and Harry grabbed Allyson's shoulders to stabilise her. His hands tight around them as if he tried to stop her from saying something. She wasn't sure what she could say that would make Snape back off anyway.

Reluctantly Ron stepped back, glaring up at the Potions master and the tree behind them quivered violently when Hagrid scuffled around to see them.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the fir. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"That may be so, Hagrid, but fighting is against the rules. Five points from Gryffindor." Snape retorted carelessly. "I suggest you all move along."

The three Slytherin boys moved past them and Malfoy not-so-accidentally shoved Harry into the tree. He glared at the Slytherins through the large pine branches and Ron muttered a few impressive obscenities under his breath.

"I glad he's going home for Christmas."

"Definitely," Allyson agreed mildly, "Hagrid if I don't see you before I go home, I hope you enjoy the Holidays. Guys, I need to find Binns."

Her last sentence earned her bewildered looks from the other children and Ron frowned. "Why in the world would you go and find a professor on the last day of therm?"

Rolling her eyes, Allyson sighed before moving up on her tiptoes. "There is this alchemist, I want to know more about."

Ron's eyes widened, but before he could say anything more, Allyson turned on her heel and ascended the stairs. As she climbed the stairs, she heard Ron ask what alchemist she was talking about and unsure if he was joking or not, she peered over her shoulder. Harry elbowed him and gave a meaningful glance at Hagrid, but Ron's face remained clueless. Allyson snorted; the boy could be so simple-minded.

The corridors were quiet and she jogged to the fourth floor. Arriving before Binns' office, she halted and knocked. Although they hardly had any leads to go on with, now she was unsure if she should try with the History teacher. He never seemed to remember anyone's name, but just referred to one of your parent's names (if you were lucky) or called you something completely inadequate. He referred to Harry as 'James' most of the time, or on bad days to something that relatively sounded like 'Potter'. Hermione, although she corrected the ghost the first few times, was called 'Ginger' or 'Gember', which she by now just accepted with a small sigh. Then there was Ron, who was the only one whose name he used correctly — apparently the red hair made it, even for Binn's, easy to remember his name — and of course, there was Allyson. She stepped into the classroom, rubbing her hands together and the ghost, hovering above his desk, looked up from his papers.

"Ah, Eleanor."

Allyson was, from the moment she set foot in his classroom, referred to as 'Eleanor', which was a name she relatively liked, so she never once contradicted it.

"Good afternoon, Sir, I have a question." She said. "It's about a historical person my erm father— has been asking about." She continued, smiling slightly at her cringe-worthy story. "You see, he's very interesting into the Wizarding history and he read something about Nicolas Flamel."

Looking up at the ghost, his expression dazed. "Ah yes, Mister Flamel? That was a very gifted man. Found an immortality elixir in 1437. Has lived all this time." He summed up. "Must be boring." He finished, gazing at the wall.

 _'Bingo!'_

Suppressing a smile, she nodded. "And this _elixir_ —" she began, but then the door was slammed open. Professor McGonagall bristled in and Allyson felt the blood drain from her cheeks. The woman looked pissed beyond words.

"Cuthbert, can I borrow Miss Gilbert, for a moment?"

The ghost looked up, apparently surprised that he wasn't alone. "Who?"

McGonagall gave him a hard stare before waving at the young Gryffindor and the Ghost nodded curtly. Allyson would have screamed if she had thought it would help and solemnly followed after her head of House.

"But I didn't do anything…" She muttered under her breath.

They started down the corridor, leaving Binns' classroom behind them and nervously started to fiddle with the straps of her bag. They stopped almost directly opposite to the staircase to the Serpentine Corridor and Professor McGonagall tapped her wand on a dark oak door. It croaked softly when it opened and the older witch led her into what Allyson assumed was her office. The room was small; with just a desk and two red-tufted chairs standing around it. A large welcoming fire was lit and McGonagall beckoned for Allyson to sit down. Taking a seat near the fire, she sent a fearful glance out of the window. She was screwed…

She mentally went over at least ten different excuses why she could have been intrigued by Nicolas Flamel and how she came to think of him, while McGonagall straightened her robes and sat down across from her.

"Did I do something wrong, ma'am?" — Apart from the obvious, like poking my nose in other people's business — she asked, inclining her head.

"No, no, Miss Gilbert. You didn't do anything wrong." The woman began, her eyes flickering. "There is something else I wish to discuss with you." Opening the top drawer of her desk, she pulled a file out. "You've been doing well in your classes."

Allyson watched in silent wonder as her Professor extracted a grade list and ironed it out over on the table. Marks for her subjects were all written neatly down, and Transfigurations and Defense were marked with a thick line underneath. Allyson had no idea, they kept a file with the marks received over the whole year. She had thought they only filed the exams at the end of the year. Smiling at her nervous fidgeting pupil McGonagall slid the parchment over the table to Allyson.

"You have shown a certain affinity with your classes, I wouldn't have expected from a first-year." Professor McGonagall began. Allyson frowned as she glanced at the paper. She knew she did well at Transfigurations, but apparently, she had done better than just 'well'. "Are you surprised?" she asked, while glancing at Allyson's face with barely hidden amusement.

Allyson rubbed her hands together before reading the paper. Apart from the marks, she'd received on essays and practical tests there was also written documentation on what she supposed was the grasp and maturing of her magic. "I'll admit I thought I was fairing all right in my classes. I just didn't realise there were all these things the school documented. What do you mean with spell strength?"

"Magic in youngsters is untrained and normally triggered by emotional outbursts. You might have had magic triggered by emotions, but when I met you in your back garden you were already aware of it and controlled it to a level that is rare in girls your age. Although rare, it's not unheard of, but your spell strength is also more advanced than one should expect." McGonagall explained and flipped through the file. "Although you can be rather careless of course, we think your progression is better suited with students in the same magical class."

"I'm not sure I understand where this is going, Professor," Allyson remarked slowly, rubbing her hands together.

"Do you feel challenged in your subjects?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, yes. I truly love magic. And besides, the subjects are very interesting." Allyson said, her face flushing.

"That's not what I am asking, Miss Gilbert," McGonagall decided. "Your father told me you had a special tutor at home…"

Leave it to her father to call her teacher a special tutor. He wasn't special, it was hardly because of her sharp mind that she'd needed to be tutored at home instead of in a classroom, but Allyson didn't think it was wise to tell her Head of House that and shrugged. "I've always had a keen memory."

"So, I've noticed," her Professor nodded, "But having a keen memory or feeling challenged during your classes, are two different things. Your marks on the subjects that require a wand are excellent, even Severus commented positively on them."

"He did?" Allyson asked and McGonagall grinned.

"Oh yes, I think he also said you were a bit of a swot and liked to experiment." The woman told her young pupil lightly and Allyson wondered if she was even supposed to tell her that.

"Yeah, that sounds like Professor Snape," Allyson muttered.

"We feel like we don't challenge you enough in our subjects and we do not wish to stand in the way of your magical and academical growth. Therefore Professor Dumbledore and I decided it would probably be best to accelerate some of your classes." Professor McGonagall explained and offered Allyson a tin with biscuits.

"You want me to skip a year?" Allyson asked slowly, straightening in her seat. Conveying that to her parents would probably be the easiest she had done all year. In Germany, despite her somewhat bad track record with other children, the teachers had also made her skip a year in second grade and another one in fourth. Her father had never been more proud. It hadn't mattered that she was an obnoxious know-it-all who manipulated the situation to her benefit and squeezed it for all it was worth. Being academically talented made her get away with things. At school, the teachers merely thought her to be a push-over while instead, Allyson was a mean-spirited, cunning and manipulative little girl. She wasn't mean out of some sick superiority complex. No, nothing like that, she was mean-spirited because the students used to go out of their way to harass her. Even after she started to show them the error of their ways — be the bigger man be damned — many of her classmates tried to aggravate her. It was one of the reasons why she still chose the company of books and scrolls instead of her actual friends whenever she felt overwhelmed or upset.

"Miss Gilbert?"

Allyson forced a watery smile on her face and took a biscuit out of the bin. "I'm sorry I was just thinking about my parents."

"Your parents seemed to think it might be a wise course of action."

"To skip a year." She asked again.

"Yes,"

"I didn't know that was an option at Hogwarts," Allyson admitted while nibbling on the cookie.

"Not often. Initially, Headmaster Dumbledore recommends extracurricular assignments rather than moving a student up a year, but I persuaded him to let you start taking classes with the second years."

Upon noticing Allyson's face, McGonagall smiled. "Headmaster Dumbledore has always been reluctant to advance children and always encouraged extra curricular assignments instead. He feels that it's important for children to socialise with other children their own age."

"Then why did he agree? I'm already one of the younger ones." Allyson asked, nibbling at the biscuit. That was true, she was born at the 28th of July.

"Because of your parents." the Deputy Head answered. "They told me you get restless, but I've noticed you are quite mature for your age. I don't think the age difference will be much of a problem. It's only one year up, after all, and not for all subjects either. Professor Quirrell opted that advancing you in Defense and Transfigurations might already challenge you."

"Not on all subjects?" Allyson echoed. At one side, she really liked the idea to learn some more advanced magic, but on the other, she really liked sharing her classes with her friends.

"Although your marks are fine on all of your subjects, we would like you to start taking the classes for the second years Transfigurations and Defence first. They are by far your best subjects and with your background History of Magic or even Potions might be more difficult."

"You mean with me not growing up with them?"

McGonagall smiled and steepled her fingers together. "Both subjects can be taught to all students, no matter what background you have, but growing up with wizards and witches has certain benefits. One of them is picking up on things. We fear advancing you on those subjects would mean you would miss essential information during your future tests. The essentials of magic are repeated every year, but the basics of History of Magic and potions—"

"Are only given once."Allyson smiled at that. She couldn't imagine Severus Snape, who had barely enough patience to explain the basics to students once, repeating already given theory at the beginning of a new school year. Grinning she leaned forward on her elbows and pursed her lips. "How would this work with my other subjects. And what about Charms? I noticed you didn't mention that during your explanation."

The woman smiled at that ironed the papers out in front of her. "No, I didn't, did I? You receive the same marks on Charms as one of your classmates.

Allyson frowned. "How would that work with my other subjects?"

"There are some subjects you would not follow with your House; Defence against the dark arts for the Gryffindor second-years is on Friday afternoon. Therefore you would have to switch classes for Charms, which is given at the same moment." McGonagall explained, and Allyson nodded thoughtfully. "Then there is Transfigurations, which I give myself. It is given on Monday and Wednesday afternoon. You would miss none of your classes, so you would still be able to follow your other subjects with the other Gryffindors. You won't have to follow Transfigurations and Defence for the first years anymore, but I'll give you a monthly assignment which covers what your former classmates have gone through. When you keep up academically then we'll arrange the change to be permanent."

"I see,"

"Just think about it child. But if you're not really challenged, it shouldn't be that much of a choice."

Allyson nodded. "Thank you and I will."

McGonagall smiled, rearranged the files in her map before putting it away in her desk drawer. "I recommend you to discuss it with your parents. I promised I would stop by and explain your progress to them while at the same time discuss your permeability within the school."

"Oh, I see," she replied

"Off you go." the older witch said, pushing a paper with a concept of her new timetable to her and Allyson almost robotically accepted it. "If I do not see you before the Holidays start, Miss Gilbert, I hope you'll have a pleasant one."

"Thank you, you too, Ma'am." She replied before leaving McGonagall's office. Twilight had already fallen giving the walls a ghostly glow and she absentmindedly made her way to the Great Hall. It was still early, but the first students to attend dinner were already there. The four house tables were filled with plates and the hall buzzed with excitement. Allyson settled down in the middle of the table and dropped her shoulder bag down next to her on the wooden bench. She poured herself a cup of hot tea and stirred the hot liquid around with a teaspoon.

Academic acceleration would undoubtedly make her parents proud. She felt like she owned them that at least. She had not been an easy child, even though she did study hard, she was summoned to the Headmistress' office, she didn't doubt they would still be expecting at least a letter with warnings and complaints about her.

With a soft sigh, she filled her plate with fried shrimps and mashed potatoes. The fires in the Hall were burning in the hearths and fought off the chilly evening air permeated in through the large double doors. Allyson ate her dinner in silence, peering at the tiny cracks in the old worn table board and was so deep in thoughts she didn't realise someone was trying to get her attention until a hand landed on her shoulder.

"There you are! Are you all right? Harry has been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes."

Allyson looked up in surprise to see Ron Weasley staring down at her. "Oh, hi Ron," she greeted sheepishly and Harry frowned at her dazed expression before settling down beside her.

When it was clear she wasn't going to expand on what she had been doing or why she was in the Great Hall eating dinner alone, Ron sat down at her other side. "We were already wondering how long you would manage to stay at Binn's office and when you missed charms we didn't understand where you were, but it seems you were already here."

"I hope you had some more luck than we had," Harry added grimly and she nervously toyed with her the end of her red and gold tie.

"McGonagall—" Allyson started. "She came in when I was practically interrogating Binns. She took me to her office and— well, I don't know, I'm a bit confused."

"Lovely," Harry muttered before helping himself to the mashed potatoes.

Allyson sighed, what was she supposed to do? She had never had real friends before and if she skipped a year, if she started to follow Transfigurations and Defense with the second-years and Charms with the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins, she would see her friend a lot less often. Some immeasurable period of time later, she looked up from her plate and looked Hermione straight in the face. The older girl was watching her appraisingly, brows furrowed and mouth tensed into a thin line.

"Oh, I'm all right, Hermione." She was quick to assure.

Hermione nodded reluctantly but as Allyson gave the other girl a rather convincing smile the horrified expression disappeared. For now, she seemed to be content with Allyson's response and brought her attention back to Harry and Ron. "You both keep on looking when we're away won't you?"

"Right," Ron began. "And you can ask your parents, it would be safe to ask them, right?"

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," Hermione answered.

 _To be continued..._

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 **A/N: Allyson is not necessarily smarter than Hermione. Hermione had always been bookish smart, studied so hard because she was scared of failure. Allyson is not like that. Allyson only studies hard for her classes (*because she's scared of what her parents say) and she studies hard for the things she likes. In that sense, she would know exactly what kind spells you could use to stupefy someone, but would not know even a sentence of a second-year Potions book, because the subject doesn't interest her all that much.**

 **Thereby, I do have my reasons for skipping a year in those two subjects. Do feel free to tell me your theories about Allyson's family:)**

 **Leave a review!^^**


	12. Chapter 11, to do one's parents proud

**A/N: Keep in mind that although unknown, for now, everything I do with these characters has a reason (or at least I try). I've got several pages words of notes and history lines pertaining this story.**

* * *

 **o.O.o**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eleven, to do one's parents proud**_

 **T** he proud castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was located high up the Scottish mountains. In the highlands the nights were chilly and in the early mornings, a whitish fog permeated over the grounds, hanging around the building. A hooded man prowled through the woods, unfazed by the stronghold of the castle and the enchanted barriers erected around it. A waxing gibbous moon flew harshly under wispy clouds and filtered in through the high rectangular windows of the Gryffindor Tower.

Allyson's eyes fluttered open blinking against the harsh light and it took her a moment to clear her mind and realising there was an increasing tapping sound. Kicking the warm duvet of her body, she glanced around. A large bird sat on the window ledge, rustling its feathers. Beady black eyes were fixed upon something Allyson couldn't see and she slowly lowered her bare feet on the cold wooden floorboards. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up (no longer paying the bird any heed) and looked around. Her roommates were still soundly asleep, their chests rising and falling rhythmically. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. She was too excited for the day to come.

Silently, she dressed in simple jeans and a guardian. The tapping of the bird remained continuously and the young Gryffindor flicked her wand in aggravation. A light started at the tip of her wand and for a moment even Allyson herself was blinded. The tapping stopped immediately and the bird ruffled his feathers as if it was offended by the sudden light and flew off.

"Bloody bird," she mumbled softly. Another flick of her wand had her clothes folding themselves and she smiled with childish glee as they neatly landed in her opened trunk.

When she was satisfied with the number of clothes property packed, she kicked the lid shut and bounded down the stairs into the Common Room. A small fire was slowly burning in the fireplace and Allyson settled onto the windowsill. The grounds were still covered with a thick layer of snow and the frozen stilled lake sparked under the light of the moon. The view of the ground was spectacular and if it hadn't been such a clear night she was sure she would have missed the sudden flicker near Hagrid's cabin.  
A hooded figure, rather familiar, moved through Hagrid's pumpkin patch and Allyson frowned. It was definitely a man. The way he moved and the broad shoulders gave that much away, but she had no idea who he was. From the distance, even if he hadn't been wearing a hood, she wouldn't have been able to see who it was. The glass fogged from her warm breath and just as her forehead knocked softly against the glass, the man looked back. Two red, glistering eyes stared back and she felt her heart seized with unexplainable fear and she couldn't tear her eyes away. A shiver of dread ran down her spine and her fingers started to feel clammy.

To some level, she knew her fear of this unknown person was irrational and as she inched away from the window, the man disappeared into the shelter of the thick trees. Allyson released the breath she had been holding and stumbled backwards into a red squashy armchair. She remained there, clasping and unclasping her fingers spastically. The hooded figure did not appear from the forest again and when the sun peeked out over the Eastern horizon, Allyson threw her schoolbag over her shoulder and left the cosy Common Room. Whenever she wasn't feeling comfortable, the library or even just a long walk through the castle made her feel more settled. It was far too early for breakfast, but the silence of the walls felt nice against her warm sweaty skin.  
Her footsteps echoed off against the walls and cut loudly through the thick silence. She quickened her pace when she crossed the forbidden corridor on the third floor and smiled wanly when she passed the tapestry that hid a secret passage. Their little escapade through the castle mere months ago seemed so far away now. It was hard to believe they had only been in Hogwarts for a few months.

The snow was coming down heavily and the chill of the night was decidedly unfriendly. A troubling other-world gleaming fog drifted over the grounds and although she curiously peered out of the window. She barely reached the windowsill down the corridors and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes. Her fingertips turned cold and she frowned, not sure what she hoped to see, now that the sun was filtering in through the foggy morning air. A low almost inhuman cackle made her stiffen. Apart from the fact that she could do without the questions about where she had come from and why she was wandering around the school, it made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

A low moan of pain echoed through the corridor and she could make out the distinct sound of footsteps nearing. Extremities trembling and face paling, Allyson felt her breath hitch. She had been told that she was small for her age and, although it had never affected her sense of importance, she shrank a little and tracked back into the hidden room. The tapestry fell in front of her face and she crouched down, her back hitting the back of a fallen chair. The footsteps moved closer and she peeked out through a small gap in the tapestry. Her heart was beating fast and she was starting to regret taking a walk through the silent castle in the early morning.

Another moan sounded, Allyson deciphered it was a male voice. He definitely sounded as if he was in pain and Allyson was struggling; coming out and see if she could be of any help, or staying there, hidden in the shadows. She sighed. Except the creep wandering around in the woods, there were only a handful teachers who she knew would be out. It was probably wiser to come out then stay hidden to be found. Suddenly, Professor Quirrell stepped into view. He was a few shades paler than normal; dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks a sickly pale. He didn't look like he had slept well recently and he stumbled through the corridor. Quirrell gasped and gripped his head, his turban shifting to a strange angle on his head.  
Allyson stilled. She was by no means afraid of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but there was something seriously off. Quirrell was muttering under his breath, swaying dangerously onto his feet. He was looking like a caged animal, ready to strike at any time, and that thought worried her. What could ever have caused the man to be so upset?

"M-master!" He whispered, "Please—"

Allyson's heart was beating so fast, she could hardly breathe and her knuckles turned white. She probably should get someone to help. As if the Gods decided to indulge her curiosity immediately, she heard more footsteps. Sweeping in like an overgrown bat, Professor Snape stepped into her line of vision.

"Quirinus Quirrell, just the person I was looking for." He hissed maniacally. The tone of his voice did nothing to ease the goosebumps rising on her arms.

"S-S-Severus," Quirrell squeaked.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but rest assured. I. Will. Find. Out!" Snape grounded out.

Looking like a deer caught in headlights Quirrell trembled and whimpered: "D-d-d-d-don't k-k-know what y-y-you're t-talking about S-S-S-Severus!" Nor did Allyson. Shifting so she sat more comfortable, she inched a bit closer to the gap.

Snape looked halfway ready to wring Quirrell's neck. His left eye was twitching and Allyson didn't think the Potions Master had ever looked as scary as he did now. Grabbing Quirrell by his front robes, the potions Master pushed his colleague up against the wall. "If I were you, I wouldn't try another one of your tricks. I will be keeping an eye on you."

Quirrell quivered and Snape stepped back, dropping the man back onto the flagstone floor. Snape's lips were drawn back into a sneer and disgust was written on his face. Turning on his heal he stalked away, his robes billowing after him, without another word. Allyson blinked and watched the Potions Professor leave through the corridor he'd arrived by.

"He doesn't know," Quirrell muttered. "He can't possibly know."

Fidgeting nervously, wide, horrified eyes flitted through the hall before he too marched away. Allyson waited until she could no longer hear the man's footsteps and stumbled out from her hiding spot. Stepping into the corridor she immediately turned left, wanting to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. Turning the corridor towards the flight of stairs, she ran straight into Snape. He was leaning up against the wall, a suspicious look on his face.

"I already thought, I saw something." He said slowly, eyes unreadable. "Eavesdropping is, as I'm sure even a thick Gryffindor can understand, considered rude."

"I was not necessarily eavesdropping." Allyson gulped and stepped back, fingers curling tightly around the handle of her bag. Snape smiled coldly down at her and she already knew he would take points, no matter what she was going to say. Thereby seeing in what kind of mood he was, she really didn't want to tick him off any further.

"Not eavesdropping…"

"No Sir, that certainly wasn't my intention." She continued. Snape inclined his head, obviously not believing her. For this once she couldn't blame him. "Professor Quirrell was acting weird and I didn't want to deal with him."

Eyes narrowing, Snape stared at her, as if he wanted to pluck the answers straight from her brain. Her cheeks turned red when she realised what it must have looked like to him. Instead of coming out, she had been hiding. Some Gryffindor she was. "That sounds like a possibility."

Eyes widening, Allyson grinned slightly. "It is, Professor." she agreed; pleased that he at least gave it some thought, even if it was somewhat embarrassing. "I was just taking a walk. I'm a morning person."

"A morning person." He echoed; a frown still in place. "I see, yet, I would recommend not to walk the halls so early, Miss Gilbert. It's unwise."

Allyson nodded, "Yes sir."

Pushing a dark lock of hair behind her ear, she turned around and was about to walk away, when the Potions Master stopped her. "It might sound like a possibility, I still cannot risk the slightest possibility that you were actually eavesdropping. As to ensure you will not try something like this again, I will take two points from Gryffindor."

"Right, I see, Sir." She grounded out, fighting the urge to make a vulgar gesture. He gave her one last cold smirk before turning on his heel and descending down the stairs, presumingly returning to the dungeons.

Allyson groaned, crossing her arms over her chest and kicked at the wall before stomping down the stairs. She angrily muttered insults under her breath, resembling Quirrell only without the turban. Turning into the Entrance Hall she noticed three Slytherins coming up the stairs from the Dungeons. From the way, they walked obviously male. A thin blond boy walked on the front. The platinum blond hair immediately giving away his identity, and she really was not in the mood to deal with him. Then again—

Oh, she almost hoped he would say something to piss her further off. She would really love to hex him into the next century. She could imagine how satisfying that would be, and for the fairness, she could picture Snape's face on him. As they noticed her storming down the stairs, they gaped at her but refrained from saying anything. They seemed to have enough common sense to not piss her off any further. Although she did hear Malfoy mutter something along the lines of ' _trouble in paradise_ ', he and his cronies passed without comment. Allyson grumbled, her fingers itching as she traced the wood of her wand.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her fingers in soothing circles over her temples, trying to lower her heart-rate. Her right hand closed around her wand, but she managed to control her rising temper. When the worst of her anger passed, she sighed. Kicking at a loose stone on the floor, Allyson entered the Great Hall. It was still early enough for the Great Hall to be quiet, yet late enough for breakfast to be served. She dragged herself and her overstuffed satchel to the table and sat down at the far end in a most unladylike manner (her governess would have given a derisive snort). With a venomous glare at the staff table — yet the Potions Master was not there yet — she poured herself a hot cup of Earl Grey tea and served herself some still-steaming scrambled eggs and sausages. Harry was wrong, Severus Snape hated her just as much as he hated him. He really docked points on her for everything! She wondered if he would start docking points for breathing too loud. It would be just like him.

"What got your knickers in a twist?" Ron asked, half an hour later when he took a seat next to her.

Harry pushed his black-rimmed glasses further up his nose and gave her a curious look as he sat down at her other side. Allyson smashed her sausage on her plate, grinding it against the white china and she grimaced.

Ron gave her a disapproval look when he noticed the mess she was making from her breakfast (he probably thought it was a shame from the sausages). "Sometimes, you seem so mature— and then there are moments like these where I wonder…"

"Wow, thanks, Ron." Allyson grounded out.

Harry gave her an amused look before pulling Allyson's plate away. "I think your sausages have been through enough, what got you so worked up?"

Rolling her eyes, she placed a bun on a napkin and brought her fork down. Harry's hand shot out, grabbing a hold of her wrist and pulled the napkin with the bun away from her as well. "Snape," she snapped, "he's an arse."

"No need to take it out on your innocent food, though," Harry said, frowning slightly. "They can't help the greasy git is an arse! What did he do now?"

"I took a walk this morning. Didn't sleep well… And then when I was on the third floor, I heard Quirrell coming. He was moaning and whimpering like a wounded dog." Allyson explained, pulling her plate back while trying to yank her arm back. "And then Snape came, threatened Quirrell, telling him he would be watching him; whatever that means. I hid in the secret alcove, but not good enough as it seems, seeing he spotted me and _docked_ points." She angrily huffed; picking up her knife and started to chop her sausages again — Harry gave her an amused look before grabbing a hold of her knife as well, leaving her defenceless against the vengeance of the sausages.

"Why would Snape threaten Quirrell?" Hermione asked.

Shrugging, Allyson shoved her plate away from her. "Don't know, don't really care."

"She really is beyond pissed," Ron said, sounding somewhat impressed. "I have never seen you this worked up."

"Well, it's unfair!" Allyson huffed. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I just hid from Quirrell. How could someone blame me for that? He was acting like a wounded animal, who would go for your throat if you came close!" she snapped, wrenching her wrist free from Harry, she threw her knife down. "Seriously there's something completely off with that man! He was talking to himself— again. I think he's suffering from schizophrenia or something to that note."

She was met with a blank stare from Ron. "Perhaps if you'd say that again, but now in plain English, I would understand."

"Oh, sorry Ron. Schizophrenia is a mental disorder." Allyson explained, running her hand through her hair. "People who suffer from it are incapable to recognise the reality from imagination. They often suffer from hallucinations. Sometimes they are even diagnosed with a multiple personality disorder," — another blank look from Ron — "which means they suffer from a split personality. You know more personalities in one person. Like you and Harry are one person…" she explained slowly, before drawing in a large breath.

"Right, so you think Quirrell is— _mental_ , well could have told you that before," Ron muttered, still not fully grasping the situation.

Harry laughed, smiling with mirth as he rubbed his hands together. Allyson understood his amusement. Wizarding children knew so little of the Muggle world…

"She doesn't just mean mental. She means that Quirrell might have two sides. Might have two personalities." Harry explained. "Like one moment he thinks he is Quirrell the teacher and the next moment he thinks he is Jessy the housewife."

"Hn?"

Allyson nodded, crossing her legs. "Then again perhaps he only hears voices. Hears voices from the Great beyond or something."

"Yes, that's true. He actually might hear voices." Hermione said, "We saw Quirrell some time ago, muttering against someone he called 'Master'."

"Yes at Hallowe'en." Allyson agreed. "And believe me when I say there was no one else in that classroom."

"Weird," Ron muttered

"Well, yeah," Allyson said. "But, Quirrell aside; I need to tell you all something." she started, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "As you know professor McGonagall fetched me yesterday. She had a— _proposition_ for me."

"What kind of proposition?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed.

"To skip a year for two subjects," Allyson muttered, her voice quivering a little.

"Really!" Harry exclaimed, his face lighting up immediately. Allyson felt instantly grateful he had such a supporting personality. "Which subjects? No — Don't say anything. I know! Transfigurations and —" he said, smirking; his eyes lighting up with what Allyson could only name as mischief. "Surely not potions," he muttered under his breath. "Ah, of course, I know Defence! Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah, that's right; ten points to Gryffindor." Allyson smiled tightly.

"That's great Allyson!" Hermione said, her voice faltering at the end and her face had gone pale. Swallowing, she patted Allyson on her back. "You're awfully good at those subjects."

"Perhaps," Allyson mumbled. "But I'm a bit unsure. My timetable would change and I wouldn't have as many lessons with you all as I had before."

"That's all right!" Ron said bravely. "If you do, then you can easily help me with my homework."

"So pleased to know you'd miss me." Allyson dryly remarked. Shifting, she looked at Harry. He smiled at her and put his thumbs up.

"You probably should. There are still plenty of lessons we will share." He said, pushing a hand through his dark hair. "If you just promise to not leave me alone with those two," he explained, pointing at Hermione and Ron. "Then you have my full support."

Although he sounded jokingly, Allyson saw the flicker in his eyes. Ron and Hermione, although they were starting to be friendly with each other, fought a lot. Mostly about little things, but without some meddling, they could really stay at murmurs in the Hall grew louder and the last of breakfast disappeared from the House Tables.

"They're leaving. I think the train is about to leave." Ron suddenly said.

Hermione looked at her watch and turned towards Allyson. "He's right, we have to go to the school entrance or we might miss it."

Allyson felt slightly amused Hermione was worried she would be left behind, but as more students left the Great Hall, she let herself be pulled up by the older girl. Hugging Harry and Ron — Ron muttered something about their pride being destroyed — both girls made their way to the front door, where the other students were already waiting.

They were led down the flight of stone steps and Allyson had to hold tightly onto the balustrade. With the cold weather, the steps were really slippery, and she took to counting them while holding her arms out to prevent crashing into the stone ground. It took them 345 steps before they finally got to the thick iron gates, which shielded Hogwarts from unwanted quests. In front of the gates, there were carriages waiting. Allyson cocked her head to the side and the snow creaked under her feet.

The carriages were without anything to pull them and Allyson frowned. Hermione excitedly clapped her hands together and she followed the other girl in one of the coaches. Twirling a lock of thick bushy hair around her finger, Hermione spoke excitedly about the autonomous carriages she had read about in _'Hogwarts a History'._ Apparently, the coaches were being pulled by thestrals, a breed of winged horses who were invisible by all accounts. The idea of invisible animals was fascinating really and Allyson made a mental note to look them up when she was at home. The train-ride back went eventful. The girls flipped through their books, making a start on the load of homework they were given, and the scenery flew by the window. Twisting the bookmark between her fingers, Allyson glanced at her Defence homework. It had been simple and moreover, she recognised inherent flaws in Quirrell's assignment. Feeling restless, she'd borrowed a few second-year books, and was by now seriously considering taking Professor McGonagall up on her offer. The assignment on Transfigurations wasn't that difficult either and after researching the topic in her books she wrote a sufficient essay on it.

Hermione was silent, glancing at the second-year books so now and then with a frown before glaring back at her essay. Hermione probably thought Allyson didn't notice. The problem was; she did. The older girl had been quite silent and although Allyson indulged her obvious sulking, she wondered why she couldn't be excited for her. Or at least give her an honest opinion. After all, to Allyson, it would be nice if she could please her parents. She really wanted them to be proud of her.

Sighing, she closed her book with a thud and sat back in her seat, glancing outside. The snow had started falling turning to water when it hit the windows, streaming down as a watery curtain, blurring the scenery. Closing her eyes, Allyson leant her cheek against the cold glass. They would be home before she knew it…

 _To be continued..._

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 **A/N: And here is chapter eleven. Let me know what you'll think! Comments are really so appreciated!**


	13. Chapter 12, A snake in the Grass

**A/N: Another chapter of Otherworldly, I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter and of course, let me know what you think!**

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 **o.O.o**

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 _ **Chapter Twelve, A snake in the Grass**_

 **A** fter several hours the train started to slow down before arriving at the train station. Platform nine and three-quarter was crowded with people and the two Muggle-borns had trouble navigating through and around them. As Allyson made her way to the central Hall of King's Cross station, bag in hand and still wearing her school blazer, she was pleased to see the common hustle in the spacious hall. It gave her a sense of normality she hadn't felt in a long time. In the disorienting chaos of the station, Hermione almost immediately spotted her parents. The introductions had to be brief as Helen and Meno Granger had to catch the next train which would depart to Heathrow Airport. From there they would travel to Austria, where the Grangers would be staying for the next two weeks.

As for Allyson's parents, they weren't there yet. She wasn't surprised. She knew her father had an appointment, and therefore the chance had been there he would not make it in time. Still, it annoyed her. Her parents were very strict and they always kept hammering on and on about being on time, but they hardly ever were, if they had to pick her up. Muttering darkly under her breath, some passengers gave her strange looks.

Tapping her feet impatiently, she huffed. A conductor gave her a glance filled with suspicion and Allyson just knew he would come over. Steering her bag around she let her gaze flit over the people one more time before groaning. Her parents still weren't there and Allyson didn't want to wait with the conductor. Turning fully around she stomped back through the barrier, disappearing out of sight of the conductor and onto the little platform, which was still crowded with people. Apparently, many parents knew each other and used picking their children up, as some catch-up time.

She looked around, hoping to find a few familiar faces to which she could chat until her parents would come and collect her. A few feet away she saw Pansy Parkinson — or pug-faced Parkinson, as Hermione called her — talking to some girls her year. Allyson shook her head. Parkinson and she didn't get on and that was if you put it lightly.

Behind the dark-haired girl stood two adults, one man and one woman; obviously her parents. It took one look at the woman, to know Pansy was related to her. She wore the same disdainful glare on her similar pug-faced face. The girl's father was tall, with dark hair and an unkempt moustache. He had dark eyes and his mouth was bent into a deep scowl. Even from the distance, Allyson could tell there were some bad vibes between the two adults, for the man looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Near the cinderblock wall at the side, Allyson spotted Daphne Greengrass. Although she looked pale and was studying her surroundings like she was lost in the Forbidden Forest, she looked as fair as ever. Daphne was easily the most beautiful girl of their year and Allyson took the time to study the other girl.

She seemed to have deliberately distanced herself from her usual gang of girlfriends, normally flocking around the popular Slytherin boys their year. Her eyebrows were furrowed in something akin of worry and Daphne's blue eyes were nervously flitting through the throng of people and she ran her hand through her hair until it became a messy tangled mess.

"Hey, are you all right?" Allyson asked as she walked up to the other girl.

Jumping slightly, the blonde girl looked up. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just, my parents aren't here yet," she muttered. Looking around the platform again, she sighed. "Why are you still here? I thought I saw you leave with your friend some time ago."

Allyson nodded. "Yes, ten minutes ago I passed the barrier, but my parents aren't there either. Dad had some sort of meeting, so I knew they could be late. And knowing my father's meetings, he probably won't arrive anytime soon. They always need him for whatever it is, they discuss."

The other girl nodded. Her blonde hair dancing around her pale face. "What does your father do?"

Shrugging, Allyson pushed her hair out of her face. It was getting quite long and with the cold very intolerable. "Politics. He has a company in America where he travels too many times a year. I can't really tell exactly what it is my father does. His explanations are vague at best and they tend to get complicated; I hardly understand it myself."

Grinning the other girl nodded. "Right." Looking her up and down, the blonde girl eyes narrowed slightly. "It's strange, but there's something about your appearance that is very familiar."

Inclining her head, Allyson kept silent, waiting for the other girl to continue. The blonde frowned as she glanced at Allyson's shoes. "Perhaps it's just your rich-child-vibe."

"Thanks a lot," Allyson remarked dryly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Oh please, I recognise expensive when I see expensive. No matter how you want to look at it, you wear high-quality robes all the time. Even your Muggle attire screams designer." the blond said, eyes flitting to Allyson's feet again. "Although I very much approve of your shoes. They are great!"

Rubbing the back of her neck, Allyson felt the blood rush to her face. It was true. It was absolutely true. Being an only child had its perks. Being the only daughter of a man like Mikeal Gilbert, had even more perks. She was positively spoiled. Receiving the very best on a regular basis and didn't think much of it, unless someone pointed it out. Allyson thought she didn't show the luxury she was used to off, but apparently, she did. Then again, this was a pure-blood girl, who was probably used to wealth. Ron did always complain that the Slytherins were a bunch of spoiled rich kids, after all. Allyson didn't really know though. She didn't care about clothes. She appreciated good quality, but she wasn't overly focused on it.

"Right, I suppose so." Allyson said, "When would your parents pick you up? Did they let you know they were going to be later?"

The other girl shook her head. "No, and the people are clearing out," she replied, running another hand through her tousled blonde hair — it was sticking out in odd angles by now — she sighed. "Soon they will close the barrier, as well as this platform," she muttered as an afterthought. A dark look took over her features. "Really if I get stuck here—"

"Wha—!?" Allyson spluttered. They were closing the barrier, and they would what, make this place disappear?

"Yes, they sort of 'lock' this place with magic. They don't want people to temper with the Hogwarts Express." Daphne said, looking at Allyson as if there was something mentally wrong with her.

"Right…"

"Hn, a decade ago a small group of supremacists lounged an attack onto this platform. Many were injured and a lot were killed. The Ministry decided that locking this place was safest for everyone."

"That makes sense, I suppose," she admitted, nodding in understanding. The people were thinning out and biting on her lower-lip she gnawed at her cheek. At the very end of the border, she noticed a blond boy looking back at her. Blond hair and a scowl on his face. Brilliant, it was Draco Malfoy. Why in the seven hells, was that boy still here?

A couple, both with pale blond hair, stood behind the blond boy. They were observing the crowd with something Allyson recognised as disdain and she frowned when Malfoy leaned towards his mother. Sitting down atop her trunk, she nervously started to comb her fingers through her hair. Daphne had bitten down at her lower-lip and peered at the grand fireplace in the far wall. Popping the first two buttons of her coat, Allyson hesitantly reached out to the blonde girl.

"We could go through the barrier and then you can wait with me and my parents. That way you won't be stuck here and you can contact yours?" Allyson asked. She didn't feel comfortable leaving her classmate on her own. Especially not when the Platform would be closing down.

"Yeah, I suppose we could do that," the other girl vaguely retorted, although her tone suggested she wasn't too pleased with that idea.

"You don't have to, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you here," Allyson said.

Looking around the platform again, hoping she would see some older version of Daphne Greengrass. There was no adult who fitted the criteria, yet, she did see the Malfoy family closing in. Allyson seriously considered turning around and making a beeline for the barrier, waiting in the Muggle world for her parents, as she probably should have done from the very beginning, and pretend she was watching the bags if the conductor would pass her again. Yet, since the two adults and young boy could probably pass the barrier as well, she let the idea slip. Thereby, it was horribly rude and undignified to run away when people were approaching her. Cursing her luck, she plastered a neutral expression on her face and hoisted her bag up, supporting it with her hip.

Noticing the shift in the air, Daphne followed her line of sight. "Oh, great," she muttered under her breath. Allyson barely had time to hide her surprise.

"Miss Greengrass, what are you still doing here?" came the silky urbane male voice, Allyson would forever associate with the elder Malfoy. He was tall and imposing. Long platinum blond hair, bound in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, fell over one shoulder. In his left hand, he carried a cane, its silver serpent head gleaming into the light of the sun.

Rubbing her eyes viciously, Daphne gave Allyson a tired look before turning around. The expression on her face changed so fast, Allyson wondered she'd really seen that expression on the other girl's face.

"Good afternoon, Mister Malfoy." Daphne sang politely. "My parents have not arrived yet."

The older man nodded, regarding Allyson through half-lidded eyes. Grey eyes flashing calculatedly, before bringing his attention back to the blonde girl.

A woman, who could only be Malfoy's mother, seemed also be in the process of inspecting Allyson. Her eyes had the same calculating quality to them, but Allyson had to admit she was undeniably pretty. Her hair was the same shade of platinum blonde as that of her son and husband. The way the two adults were looking at her, made Allyson think Malfoy told his parents about her. And from the look she got, Allyson highly doubted he had told them anything positive.

Fumbling with the straps of her schoolbag, Allyson glanced around nervously but outward remained her face impassive. From her peripheral vision, Daphne's eyes met hers and Allyson felt dread curl around her spine when the other girl's lips curled up into a smile. Clasping her hands together, Daphne smiled.

"How rude of me, I am terribly sorry!" Daphne started, a small little gleam entering her eyes, which made goosebumps rise on Allyson's arms. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the blonde pushed Allyson forward a bit. "Allyson, this is Mister Lucius Malfoy," she started, beckoning her hand towards the tall man. "And this is Mrs Narcissa Malfoy. They are Draco's parents." she continued, amicably as if they needed that introduction.

"Everybody this is Allyson Gilbert, a classmate of Draco and mine," she said, at last, a smile firmly in place, Allyson could only blink.

"How do you do?" the woman said, her hands, clad into dragon-skin gloves, wrung together. Her tone wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but Allyson could hear the edge in her voice.

"How do you do," Allyson reiterated. The blonde woman frowned, scrunching her nose up a bit as if she saw something unpleasant.

"Well, we have to go, before the portal closes," Daphne said, nudging Allyson, who could only blankly stare at the other girl. "My parents agreed it was best if I would wait with Allyson's parents for the meanwhile. And since we don't have so much time anymore, I have to bid you farewell." the blonde girl said, giving them a small, although a slightly exaggerated, bow.

"Yes," Allyson said, surprised she found her voice again. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."

Smiling, Daphne pulled her trolley to her right and grabbed Allyson by her elbow, before ushering both to the barrier.

"Your parents agreed you should wait with me and my parents?" Allyson whispered as she allowed Daphne to lead the way through the barrier.

"That was me, politely telling them off!" the blond whispered. "My parents already suck up to them enough!"

"All right, I bite, what do you mean with that?" Allyson asked, peering around.

"Right, you don't know about our social affairs." the other girl softly whispered and Allyson was not sure if she should be insulted or not. "The Malfoy's are from a very old and very wealthy bloodline. Or to use other words they have the purest blood, as Draco likes to rub under everyone's nose."

"So?" Allyson asked.

"You really used to live under a rock, don't you?" the other girl muttered. "My sister and I are around the same age as their son. I think my parents hope for a commitment. They really have been kissing the ground on where they walk to see that happen."

"I see," Allyson answered.

The other girl gave her a look, obviously sceptical if Allyson actually understood what Pure-blood socials were all about. Allyson had a distinct feeling Pure-blood society was a lot like Victorian society had been. Class had mattered during those days. And class meant something to the blonde girl and her friends. Daphne's eyes suddenly widened and her head cocked to the side.

"Is that your dad?"

For some reason, the hairs on the back of Allyson's neck stood on edge and she slowly turned around. A tall dark-haired man moved through the crowd, who seemed to step away from him. His natural aura enough to let even the boldest man wither. Catherine Gilbert, moving like a delicate flower, hugged her winter coat close to her figure and met Allyson's gaze with a small smile.

"Yes, both my dad and my mum."

Daphne fiddled nervously with an elegant narrow golden ring and Allyson smiled reassuringly. Her parents peered down at the unknown girl at their daughter's side with matching curious expressions. Allyson felt a bit bad for the young witch and tried to distract her parents' attention away from her. "Hi, mum, hi dad, how was your trip?"

Catherine's smile broadened and she pulled her only daughter in a hug. "Oh, it was fine sweetie, your father managed to not murder anyone while on the road. How was your trip."

"Fine, I suppose."

Catherine's laugh vibrated through them both, as she angled her head. Allyson felt her mother's breath waft over her ear before she spoke: "I'm sorry we're late, honey. You know how your father is. Couldn't get him away from his meeting."

"Catherine!" her father snapped.

Daphne seemed to relax a bit and smiled at the obvious playful display of affection. Mikeal Gilbert gave his wife an annoyed look, although it did not reach his eyes. Patting Allyson's head, her father glanced at the blonde girl standing next to his daughter again. Allyson saw his jaw clench, but other than that he gave no visible reaction to the girl. Allyson thought his reaction to a bit odd but decided to not think anything of it, when her mother let her go.

"And who is this?" Catherine asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Mum, dad, this is Daphne. Her parents haven't arrived yet and we were wondering if she could wait with us?" Allyson explained, "Daphne this is my mum and dad."

"How do you do?" the blond said, nodding her head.

Her father nodded, his lips pressed in a straight line. Inwardly Allyson sighed. She wasn't in the mood for his antics.

"Do your parents know about that? Did you contact them?" Her father asked and although she could hear the slight tremble in his voice, he sounded pleasant.

"No, not really. I don't know why they were delayed. I know my sister was sick, but they didn't even send our House-Elf." Daphne said, pursing her lips.

Catherine, her arm still wrapped around Allyson's shoulders, frowned. Glancing at the eleven-year-old her frown became deeper. "What's a House-Elf?" she whispered.

"Something like a servant," Allyson muttered back. "And yes, when she said 'elf', she meant an Elf!"

Running a hand through his hair, Mikeal Gilbert looked around the station. "And I suppose the barrier will close in a few minutes?"

"Yeah," Daphne admitted.

"How does he know that?" Allyson asked quietly. Her mother grinned.

"He has been reading up on the magical world."

"I see,"

"Well, I suppose it's for the best if you come along then." Mikeal Gilbert decided. "You can contact your parents at our home. We've got an owl, and if necessary you can travel through the means of Floo Powder. Our fireplace is connected to the Floo network after all." There was a moment of silence. "Do you know how to travel with Floo Powder?"

The girl chuckled. "Yes, thank you."

Leaning into her mother, Allyson whispered: "Since when do we have an owl?"

"Since a few days; your father got it from one of his business partners. You know how he is." Catherine explained. "Always liked birds, your father. Now he has an excuse to actually get one. Of course, taking care of his animals is something utterly different."

Ruffling her hair, Catherine stepped away from her daughter, to offer her hand to the young blonde girl. Daphne smiled tightly, her lips thinning as she shook Catherine's hand. "It's lovely to meet one of Allyson's friends."

"Yes, it's lovely to meet you as well, Ma'am."

Mikeal nodded. He led them out of the station and out into the heart of chilly London. An icy wind pulled at their clothes and hair and Allyson shivered.

"Where do you live?" She asked the blonde, who was looking around with non-suppressed curiosity. Presumably, the Muggle-world was as new for her, as the Wizarding world had been to Allyson.

"In Dublin." She answered, staring at a shop window, which displayed electronica. "What are those?" Daphne asked, pointing at a small black box with an antenna.

"Oh, I think it's a mobile cell phone," Allyson answered. "I suppose it's the new one."

Daphne bent down, closer to the glass; her hands on either side of her head supporting her weight, staring at the tag: 'Radiolinja'. Allyson squinted her eyes and shrugged. She'd never heard of that before, but who cared. Those big companies launched their products off, more than they breathed. It had more to do with the competition pressure, than the need for new devices every few months.

"And what does this 'cell phone' do?" the other girl asked, looking genuinely curious.

"It is a portable object, which allows its user to make and receive calls. You dial a number with the phone buttons and then, whether someone answers your call, you can talk to them." Allyson said, finding it difficult to explain something so normal to her.

"What's so good about that? I mean, I can speak to you without it, so why would I need it?" the blonde asked, looking rather bemused.

Allyson chuckled. "No, you misunderstand. With a cell phone, you can speak to people all over the world. It's like they're standing next to you, but they are not." she started, running a hand through her hair. "It's somewhat similar to holding conversations through Floo powder. That's possible right?"

"Ah, I get it! That's handy I suppose." the other girl said, still frowning. "I suppose it beats coughing root up whenever you're done speaking to someone."

Smiling, Allyson shook her head. "I suppose so if you really want to see one you should ask my father. He has one of those."

The girl nodded absently and Allyson smiled.

The ride home went fluently. The other girl looked rather nervous when she stepped into her father's dark blue car. Although her father normally drove (to keep practising), Allyson suspected Catherine talked Mikeal out of it as she took a seat behind the wheel, whispering softly to her husband. Mikeal Gilbert was a pathetic driver. He had been the reason for accidents more than once.

Daphne fiddled with her thumbs while breathing erratically. It was quite obvious that the other girl was unsure of how her parents would react to Allyson's parents. She didn't say it outright, but Allyson was part of the magical world long enough to pick up on their preferences. Thereby, the girls Daphne normally hanged with made it very clear they did not appreciate 'her kind'. Pansy Parkinson, her flock of followers stalking behind her, often loudly exclaimed on how she thought 'her kind' should be banned from Hogwarts. Exclaimed loudly, her voice echoing through the corridor, she could not understand how 'that old coot' — which Allyson had learned was Dumbledore — let such scum in. Then Pansy would glare at her and Allyson would pretend not to hear it; each and every time. After all, why should she care what some individuals tought? The problem was that it did. It was a painful realisation that a bunch of children judged her, without even bothering to get to know her.

"So you have a sister?" Allyson asked. Catherine had steered the blue Chevrolet up onto the highway and Daphne was curiously peering through the window.

"Yes, she's a year and a half younger than I am. She is ten-years-old now. She'll turn eleven this May. She's really looking forward to going to Hogwarts." Daphne chuckled. "I wonder if that excitement is still there when the first weekends. I think it will vanish the moment she sees the amount of homework we always get stuck with."

Laughing, Allyson shook her head. "Well, the first week was admittedly hard."

"The first week? Every week is hard. Especially when you're paired up with Theodore Nott during Charms. That should be a crime."

Allyson laughed loudly. "You're paired up with Theodore Nott? It can't be that bad, can it?"

"You've obviously never been paired up with the boy. Granted, he's not as bad as either Crabbe or Goyle, thank Merlin they always pair up with each other, or try to pair up with Malfoy, but really! Last time he almost burned my eyebrows off!"

Spluttering, Allyson pinched herself in her upper arms; to stop laughing. "He tried to burn off your eyebrows?"

"No, we were practising the incendio charm. He just didn't quite manage and— you're still laughing." Daphne accused.

"I'm— God, I'm sorry," she snickered, not feeling all that sorry and tried to look remorseful, "you were saying?"

"He, instead of setting fire to the paper as he was supposed to do, set fire to the chair I was sitting on." Daphne hissed.

In the reflection of the car mirror, Allyson saw her mother hide a smile behind her hand before steering the car down a deserted muddy road. Daphne puffed her cheeks up and crossed her arms over her chest, staring out of the window again with a soft huff.

The road became more narrow and the forest thick. The trees that usually sheltered so many wildlife with their spreading canopy, were bare with the wintertime. Allyson was pleased to see the familiar trees and the fencing around the remote houses near her home. She felt a surge of excitement run through her and if Allyson squinted her eyes, she could see the white building of her childhood home looming up in the distance. The trees thinned out and the electrical fence squeaked open.

Allyson had lived into that house for six years. It was large, light and spacious. She loved it. Daphne frowned when she glanced at Allyson's home. It was a large house, not meant for only one child, but her parents never had a second. Why Allyson had never asked. She had assumed they just couldn't get another one. She remembered once when she had turned four years old, she'd requested a baby sister or baby brother. Her parents had just laughed and her father had ruffled her hair, telling her she wouldn't be able to deal with such competition.

Catherine parked the car in the wooden garage and they set out to the house. Her mother, the pleasant chatterbox she was, asked Daphne what she and her family would be doing in the holidays. The way the girl looked made it very clear, she wasn't used to the amount of attention Allyson's mother showered her with. Still, she politely answered every question. She was staying at home with her parents; they would have dinner somewhere with Christmas, and at the new year, they would attend some dull ball, Daphne was evidently not looking forward to.

Inside, her mother ushered both the girls to the living room, by far the biggest room in the house and went to find her husband. The living room was light, although old. Two dark couches were situated around the ancient fireplace, while at the far right a glass table stood, on which Allyson used to do her homework. The walls were decorated with paintings her father had gathered over the years and a large window provided the room with natural light.

Allyson smiled, before slumping down onto the couch. "I'm sorry for their intrusion on your privacy. They're not used to me bringing people home." Allyson said before cringing at her own words. 'Great thing to say, Ally. Good job!'

"Oh, that's fine. I suppose it is normal for one's parents to be curious." the other girl answered, looking around; curiously taking in her new environment. "You live nice."

"Thanks, it's a bit separated from the outside world, but I like it," Allyson said, smiling warmly.

"I can imagine." the other girl said, glancing at a painting from a still life by an early Italian painter. The door opened, and her father stepped in. A big brown barn owl perched on his shoulder, hooting happily.

"It really shouldn't surprise me that you got yourself an owl," Allyson said, recognising the animal immediately. Last few weeks Allyson had received letters and small packages from home from that same bird.

Her father gave her an amused look before showing the owl to the blonde girl. "I happen to like birds kid, I would have thought you would like a new pet to coo over."

"Uh huh."

Daphne smiled tightly before taking the owl from Allyson's father. Nipping the girl affectionately, the blonde's smile turned more sincere.

"If you want to send a faster message, you can use the Floo powder," Mikeal said while pointing to the fireplace. On the mantle of the fireplace stood a scarlet jar filled with what looked like ash. Allyson bit her lip. She read about Floo powder transport, of course, she had, but she had never expected her father to get it. Then again she never expected her father to know someone who could get it. Well, she didn't mind; it was rather convenient if she wanted to visit Diagon Ally during the holiday.

"Thank you Mister Gilbert," Daphne began, before rubbing the animal behind its ears. "I think I'll use Floo powder. It's faster and that way I'll won't have to intrude any longer than necessary."

"You're not intruding, Sweetheart," her father assured the blonde girl.

Daphne might have been nervous, but quite obviously she noticed that she liked Allyson's father. Mikeal gave both girls a little salute — he used to do that, every time he would leave on business trips when Allyson was younger — and strode out of the room.

"Is he always like that?" Daphne said, grinning.

"I'm afraid so, it's a pure miracle I came out remotely sane," Allyson said, plastering the most serious expression on her face, she could muster.

Daphne chuckled before pursing her lips. "He reminds me of my own father." She decided, her lips quirked into a smile. "Does he go on and on about etiquette and manners too?"

"Ugh, he goes on and on about practically everything. From clothes to manners to how to behave." Allyson said, heaving a long sigh. "And really don't get him started on politics. You'll never hear the end of it!"

"I didn't know Muggles found that so important," Daphne mused and Allyson shrugged.

"I'm not sure if you know all that much about Muggles yet, Miss Greengrass," she decided on and Daphne shrugged setting the owl on the couch and crouched down before the fireplace. It took a few minutes for the blonde girl to make contact with her family. Allyson curiously watched as Daphne took a handful of powder, threw it in the fireplace and stuck her head through the green flames that erupted, clearly announcing the place she wished to visit. It was rather fascinating, watching the other girl sat on her knees, head engulfed in the green flames, talking to an unknown person named 'Oogly'.

As the conversation progressed, Daphne's voice started to get more and more agitated. You didn't have to be a genius to understand something was wrong.

"Where did they go then?" Daphne asked, her voice a few octaves higher than usual.

"No, I'm fine. I'm with the Gilbert family."

"Yes Oogly, they brought me with them."

"No listen here, I want you to go inform those two — I don't care 'Tory's' sick, you can't leave your other daughter on a station, without as much as a note."

Silence… It seemed that the Oogly person was trying to persuade her to do— whatever it was Ooglies said to persuade girls like Daphne Greengrass. Whatever he was trying, it was not working. Daphne had started to tremble.

"Oh, of course, I do that! Intrude some more! Yes, Muggles YES!"

Allyson cringed. She wondered how the girl's parents would react to that bit of information. It was quite clear they followed the common Pure-blood believes. Or at least they sympathised with them.

"You know what, Oogly, never mind." Daphne hissed. Pulling her head back with a sharp yank, specks of dust covering her right cheek. "They completely lost the plot!" She hissed, angrily stomped back to the couch and slumped down on it in an undignified manner.

"Should I ask what's wrong, or do you not want to talk about it?" Allyson asked, drawing her knees up.

"No, feel free to ask," Daphne muttered, glowering at the fireplace as the flames sizzled out. "My sister is sick and my parents were worried and went to see a healer. They still have to return." she continued; her face flushing red. "Really ever since that girl was born, I'm completely invisible."

"I—"

The other girl started to massage her temples, tears of frustration accumulating at the corners of her eyes. "I hate my parents. I hate having a sister and I hate everything they put me through just to ensure their social standing."

Allyson swallowed. She wasn't sure how to react to this. She knew nothing of her home situation, nothing except having a sister who stole all the attention and parents who, as Daphne so eloquently put it, sucked up to the Malfoy family.

"What are you going to do now?" Allyson asked, her face contorted in worry. "What healer did your parents go to?"

"I don't know. Merlin only knows. It isn't like we have only a few healers. There are plenty of people with that profession." Daphne explained, seeming to gain control over her temper again. "I suppose it is best to just write to them. They say an owl is able to find people, no matter where they are."

"Yes, they do say that, but according to the literature there are cases known where it took over four owls to find the people, they had to deliver it's mail too."

"Do you memorise everything you read?" The blonde asked dryly and Allyson shrugged. "But even if, it's worth a shot."

Allyson got up to find writing paper and dug into her schoolbag to find a quill and ink. "Here,"

Daphne smiled tightly and turned to write a long letter to her parents. Allyson watched the girl go through nearly everything that happened that day — rather impressed by the number of insults she managed to put in between the lines — and wrote down where she was staying. Once the letter was finished and sealed, she'd sent it off through the window and sat down next to her.

"What do you want to do in the meanwhile?"

"What do the Muggles normally do?"

"Watch television?"

"Why not," she muttered irritably, "if that's what they do, I'm sure it will do!"

The time swiftly melted away and dinner-hour drew closer. Daphne was mostly in a foul mood. And although Allyson couldn't blame the girl, it wasn't necessarily pleasant. Since her parents refused to let a twelve-year-old stay on her own with only the company a House-elf — her mother deducted it had to be something similar to a goblin from the Gringotts bank —Daphne stayed with them, waiting for a reaction from her parents. At the end of the evening, the girl was so angry, Allyson counted herself lucky she never got onto her bad side.

When evening fell Catherine Gilbert shoed both girls upstairs, to sleep. Mikeal Gilbert had dragged a mattress from the guest room into Allyson's bedroom and after watching Daphne peer at the floor with distaste, Allyson had changed her beddings and offered her own bed. By then, a thick fog blanketed the trees and the rooftops of the small village of Kintbury. The dim light of the moon couldn't penetrate through the thick vapour, dunking the houses in darkness. She was so tired she barely managed to pull on her pyjamas, but when she flopped onto the bed, Allyson lay awake, staring at her ceiling. A thick silence, only interrupted by even breathing, had stretched over Allyson's bedroom.

It was late and Allyson rolled onto her side, pulling her comforter up till her chin. After several minutes her eyelids started to grow heavy and she was sure she would have fallen asleep then and there, but Daphne sighed audibly. The deep gush of air travelled through the silence of the room. Outside an owl hooted and a low-hanging branch ticked rhythmically onto the window of Allyson's bedroom. Allyson held still, waiting for another sign that Daphne Greengrass was still awake. None came, and as the silence stretched out into the small bedroom, she pulled her legs up more comfortable and closed her eyes again.

"Are you awake?"

Her eyes snapped open. Sitting up slightly she glanced at the direction Daphne lay. "Yeah, is there something wrong?"

Daphne didn't respond right away, but the silence did no longer held the same tension. The mattress creaked as the other girl shifted into her bed. "No, not really," she mumbled.

"I don't believe that," Allyson replied, waiting for the other girl to say something again.

"Your parents," Daphne started. "Are they always like— this?"

"Like what?"

"So— open," she decided, "yes, their love is so open and carefree."

"Yeah," Allyson admitted, curling her legs up under her. "Why?"

"Why indeed," she mumbled before a new silence stretched out over the room.

Allyson drew a shaky breath and, when Daphne said nothing else, she flopped back onto her bed. She wondered what it was like to have such a defective relationship with your parents that caused you to question someone's else's. Clutching her duvet to her body, she closed her eyes.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **A/N: I've always thought many characters were left unknown, yet, I believed not every Slytherin was horrible simple from being sorted in that house. Enjoy Daphne Greengrass! And of course, let me know what you think!**


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